


An Atypical Narrative

by PolluxDevia



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkward Sexual Situations, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Intimacy, M/M, Masturbation, Sharing a Bed, Virgin Sherlock Holmes, actually talking, ish, non-consensual drugging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-06 12:18:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19062529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolluxDevia/pseuds/PolluxDevia
Summary: John walks in on Sherlock's self-pleasure session and it causes a chain reaction of growing intimacy and affection.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set after THoB, AU where there's no Reichenbach Fall. Not Brit picked, but I try.  
> If anyone would like to take the premise of this story and write their own version, please do. And then let me know about it so I can read it. I only wrote this story because this is what I like to read. I'd prefer the lazier rout of someone else writing it for me.
> 
>  ~~This story is completed, I'm just going to upload it as my beta finishes each chapter.~~  
>     
>  ~~Everyone is encouraged to harass my beta, IVleafTea, to work faster.~~ Also tell her to finish her own WIP. It's been years now! Dishonor on your cow!

John walked up the stairs to their flat. He was home a few hours early due to a marvelous plumbing disaster at the clinic. The whole place had flooded. He wasn’t sure how long the building would be out of commission and he was already hoping a good case would keep him busy for the time being. Maybe he’d walk into their flat and find Sherlock talking to him like he thought John had been there the whole time and then he’d pout that he’d have to repeat himself, the git. John grinned fondly.

That’s not what happened.

As he neared the wide open door to their sitting room, John heard rather heavy breathing. It was unmistakably Sherlock. Several possible causes shot through his mind immediately: combat, chemical asphyxiation, drug use, weird experiment.

John quickly stepped through the threshold. And....

Sherlock was naked.

Like completely naked.

Unless you counted the headphones.

He was on the sofa.

And very visibly... erect.

John stared dumbly at his flatmate’s naked aroused body, bearing witness to the slight thrusting movements of his hips. His arms were behind his back, his head tilted against the wall.

Actually... in fact, his prick seemed exceedingly... full and... flushed. John had very little time to formulate any more thoughts at all before Sherlock’s breath hitched and suddenly his open mouth became clenched teeth as he let out a deep groan of unmistakable pleasure.

Sherlock’s cock spasmed against his clenching abdomen. His come slid unhindered down his smooth skin to the base of this shaft. With no hair present, John saw it continue around Sherlock’s still contracting bollocks and between his legs, and presumably into the towel that was placed underneath his arse.

John stood there trying to process the scene before him as Sherlock’s breathing slowed and he relocated his arms from behind his back. Then he eventually opened his eyes, leant forward and pressed a button on a laptop that John had not noticed until that moment. He automatically checked the screen, but there was no porn to be found. Looked like a music website. ‘Odd’, he vaguely thought in the back of his mind.

It was then that Sherlock finally noticed his presence.

John, being a normal sort of bloke, kind of assumed he’d see the expected mortification, covering of bits, and fleeing when caught wanking... if you’d consider this wanking, he wasn’t really clear on that. That was not the reaction he observed. He also (because he had imagined this scenario could happen, they were flatmates, best to be prepared) had thought maybe Sherlock would be the type to just shrug it off and give John a lecture about ridiculous sexual hang ups of society. Also not the case.

Sherlock gave him a blank stare for a full five seconds before narrowing his eyes in a way the left John feeling distinctly deduced. Then... well, Sherlock tensed in his ‘I’m too much of genius to bother with emotions like embarrassment’ way, and proceeded to clean himself up with some nearby tissues.

Uncomfortable silence reigned making mere seconds seem excruciatingly long.

Sherlock removed the headphones from his ears, and was conspicuously not looking at John. “It’s safe to assume the clinic had to close for some issue or another. It’s difficult to read your emotional level due to the shock of the situation, but you didn’t leave work of your own accord. Your general demeanor shows it wasn’t a serious issue such as legal trouble, contagious epidemic, physical danger, etc. Hmmmm.”

“Bloody building flooded.” Might as well speed things up to the conclusion. He’d get there anyway.

But without something to deduce, Sherlock grew silent again. And as John hadn’t a clue what to say either, it continued.

Finally Sherlock stood, his posture designed to retain as much dignity as possible. He took the towel he’d been sitting on, secured it around his waist, and strode past John disappearing into the bathroom.

John went over to his chair and fell into it with a huff. “Well then.”

 

 

Sherlock returned to the sitting room some time later, though in less time than John would have taken if it were him. He was once again fully dressed, even wearing his favorite dressing gown. John got the distinct impression that he was attempting to appear unfazed. He supposed most people would believe it.

Sherlock moved his laptop from the coffee table to his desk and began tapping at the keys. ‘For something to do,’ John thought. ‘Fine. If he wants to act like he’s not bothered, we can both do that. Like it never happened.’

“I’m hungry. Do we have anything in?” John barely finished the sentence before Sherlock spoke up.

“How long had you been standing there?” He continued to keep his eyes focused on his laptop, clicking and typing as if most of his attention was there.

“.... oh... um... I-uh ... Not long.”

“Do try to be a bit more specific,” Sherlock prompted snappishly.

“I walked in ... and then you... um... well-uh... finished.”

He took a moment before responding. “You have questions.”

John sighed. “Look, it’s not my business. And it’s not like this isn’t something that can happen with flatmates. So it’s, you know, not a big deal. Really. You could delete it or something. If you want.”

When it seemed that Sherlock was done speaking for the time being, John went to the kitchen to sort out dinner. It was early, but he too needed something to occupy him.

 

***

 

Over the following days John’s mind kept returning to what he’d witnessed. He’d never seen that before. A bloke coming without anything touching his prick. And it was a nice looking prick, he thought. Then he reflected on that thought and decided it wasn’t weird, why shouldn’t he have an opinion on what constituted a good looking penis? He’d seen a lot of them after all, doctor, soldier, porn watcher.

And it just figured Sherlock had to be different in every way, even wanking.

But as it turned out, it wasn’t that odd of a thing to do. While he wasn’t about to interrogate his friend about what he’d been doing, he was still curious. So he’d looked it up. On porn sites. As you do. As it happened, there was a good amount of porn to peruse that included men orgasming without being touched.

And that got John’s mind spinning. How? Sometimes they wanked normally and then let go (or someone else wanked them and let go), sometimes they didn’t touch themselves at all, sometimes there was electronic devices involved (that one he understood the how). But he himself had never done anything like that and wondered how they ‘got there’ and why people did it.

Did he fantasize? What would a man like Sherlock Holmes fantasize about? It was a shock in and of itself that Sherlock even masturbated. John had wondered about it before and thought it unlikely. But he definitely did, so what would appeal to him? And did he keep his arms behind him to keep from touching himself? What was that about?

 

***

 

As it turned out, Sherlock did not delete his memory of being caught.

Just a few days later, they were celebrating the solving of a decent case with some wine. It was a common way for them to unwind.

After they’d finished a bottle, Sherlock suddenly announced, “I know you’ve been looking it up.”

“Oh, have I been? What’s that then?” John was admittedly a little slow on the uptake. He’d blame the wine.

“Hands free orgasm.”

John was thankful he hadn’t any liquid in his mouth at the time.

“Sherlock, we’ve talked about this. It’s not ok to snoop around my internet history. It’s private.”

“But this time is was about me.”

“It’s still not your business.”

“Well, I can’t undo it now.” John kept himself from smiling at Sherlock’s churlish tone.

“........”

“Why are you looking it up?”

“Oh, Christ, I don’t know.”

Sherlock snorted and went into the kitchen. He opened another bottle of wine and poured another glass for them each. John lifted an eyebrow. They didn’t ever go past the one bottle.

“You thought it was weird.”

“Don’t make me sound like a judgmental arse.”

“Don’t infer meaning where none is intended. But you were surprised and thought it was abnormal.”

“I was wrong, apparently. Not the first time, won’t be the last. Besides, nothing wrong with weird. I just never... never knew... that was possible. Just curious.”

Sherlock gave him lopsided smile and suddenly John understood. It was always a strange feeling when it suddenly dawned on him how much Sherlock cared. And considering how many times he’d been taught this particular lesson, he felt ashamed that he was still surprised when he realized how much Sherlock valued John’s opinion of him.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, common enough for them. Though this time it was the wine that was dulling what would have been unbearable awkwardness.

They were half way through the second bottle when John felt ready to start up the conversation again. He’d been contemplating how to change the subject, but he really couldn’t think of anything else.

“I guess I just didn’t know how you did that. Or why. I’m not saying you hafta tell me. That’s jus why I looked it up, alright? And turns like the whole internet knows about this stuff but me, n I’m an idiot.”

“Heh. That’s all the time for me. You all seem to know... social things, but I’m missing... clues.”

“Don’t worry about it,” John rushed out. “Sorry if I made you feel... stupid.”

Sherlock smiled again and John felt happy at making Sherlock feel better. Lately he’d started to feel like all he did was make his best friend feel bad about himself. He wanted to change that.

“And don’t be embarrassed about me seeing you do... that. I’m sure you know all the statistics about it, and I’m a doctor and all that. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

John was very much feeling the effects of their drinks. He used to have a much higher tolerance, but he was long past his party days and age was affecting him. Sherlock was and always had been simply a light weight. John was suspecting the second bottle of wine was meant to be a courage enhancer. Did that mean Sherlock wanted to talk?

“You asked me if I had questions. Ya know, the day I saw you...”

“Yes.”

“Is it ok if I ask? Don’t wanna be rude or make things weird.”

“S’ok.”

“You probly know things about me too. Like wank stuff. You can probly deduce it. Do you?”

“Don’t be angry.” Sherlock stared straight ahead now, avoiding eye contact.

“’M not angry. Do you pay attention to that? Sometimes I think you mus’ know evrything about how I do that. Or maybe you don’t even notice that at all. Can’t tell.”

“You say ‘that’ a lot. Yes, have observed the indicators of your habits and can deduce some information about your.... um... frequency, duration, some... subjective preferences, environmental factors that influence when you want to do ‘that’.”

“You know a lot more about me than I know about you. And you don’t even have to catch me at it to know all that.”

“Is that why you researched it? You felt like you were at a disadvantage compared to me?”

“Not really. Kinda. You’re always so mysterious about things. You know when my dates have gone well or turned crap without me saying a word, and that’s the tip of the iceberg. But I don’ even know if you’ve ever had a date... ever. Or what you like or anythin’. I can’t just know things like you do. So I don’t know things.”

They nursed their glasses for a few moments. Sherlock still kept his eyes on the floor.

“You want to know things? That is, you’re curious?”

“Yeah, o’course I’m curious.”

“Ask.... but don’t... don’t ask if you’re going to wish you didn’t know.”

“K... but don’t worry about that. You’re really tense like I’m gonna freak out on you. I won’t.”

“Good to know.” Despite the reassurance, Sherlock still looked like he was bracing for impact.

“Seriously, I know it’s.... not all what proper Englishman say, but there’s not much that could put me off. You can tell me.”

“What would put you off?”

“Um... uh... stuff to do with rape... kids... dead bodies. But I don’ think you’d do that stuff.” John was aware that his ability to speak intelligently was slowly deteriorating, but he was prepared to sound like a buffoon if it got Sherlock to just talk to him.

“No.”

“There you ‘ave it.”

“Then ask.”

“Ok.... .... Um.... “ John had to think a moment about the conversation. “I didn’ even know if you wanked.”

“Obviously I do.”

“K, but is it always like that?”

Sherlock’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“You know, no hands...”

“Oh. Well... no, not always. A lot. Never kept track of percentages. Less than half... prob’ly.”

“A’right... Um, sorry if i’s rude. Do you... date... or anything. Ever?”

“The defnition of date is too nebulous to categorize.”

“Huh. Well, that’s....”

“Be more specific.”

“Are you.... d’you ever... I mean have you... um... er... you asexual?”

“No.”

“Tha’s more’n I been able to figure out in the whole time I known you.”

“Hardly my fault.”

“Guess not, but like I said, y’like being mister mysterious.”

Sherlock took a dramatic sip of his glass and John chuckled.

“So not asexual means you like something? Men? Women? Either’s fine by me, k? Nothing t’ worry bout.”

“I’ve not entirely decided.”

“Oh? That’s... um.”

“Yes, quite. Another symptom of my underdeveloped ‘human side’.”

“Oh, no, no, Sherlock. It’s not - it’s not som’ing like that. There’s no law like you have a deadline t’ sort it. An’ it’s not a bloody contract like you gotta decide then you’re locked in forever.”

“It seems people do. They know. Even when they’re young.”

“You don’ have to be everyone else. An’ at’s bollocks anyway. You should just be... Sherlock Holmes, who doesn’ care what idiots think. Be what you are.”

“Very progressive, John.” Sherlock finally looked up and locked eyes with his friend. “Why’re you so defensive when people think you’re with me?”

“Huh?”

“I’m John Watson, I’ve shagged on three continents an’ I’m so very not gay. Not his boyfriend.”

“Oh, Christ. Tha’ makes me sound like a bellend. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how?”

“Well, it was awkward! Barely knew each other and people were a’ready assuming we were together. We jus met. God, I thought you might be worried I was tryin’ ta shag you. An’ I never really went for blokes, so I jus’ say it’s not my thing... clears it up.”

Sherlock returned to staring at the far wall again. They both took a moment to think, which was progressively more difficult as they finished the second bottle of wine.

“Sides... Ya know, now I think about it... I haven’ acted like that in ages. But it DOES make it impossible to pull when every’ne thinks ’m already taken.”

“Oh.”

“You really think ‘m afrad o’ people thinking I’m gay?

“I... wasn’t sure. You might be... sens’tive. ‘cause of your sister. People say you must be queer too.”

John snorted. “Yeah, they did. When I ‘as a kid. Got inta few fights ‘cause o’ that. They’d say things... such bullshit. The things they’d say about her... blackened a few eyes over it.”

“We were talking about what they said about you.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Distracted by... well she got the worst of it. They said stuff ‘bout me too. Y’know, the firs’ time it happened, Harry was mad at me? Yeah, she was always so angry at evrone.... Said I only punched that bloke so no one’d think I’s a fag like her. Always had a mouth on ‘er.”

“Was she right?”

“Noooooo. They were all twats. Name calling n insults. Didn’t jus’ say I was gay. Said it like it was d’sgusting.”

“And it’s not.”

“It’s not.”

“Good.”

“Right.”

“.....”

“Have you ever...”

Sherlock waited for him to finish.

“Well, have you... been with anyone.”

“You’re remarkably vague. It’s annoying.”

“Fine. Ever had any ... r-relationships?”

Sherlock scoffed and John knew he was going to telling him to be more specific again.

“Git. I mean romantic, obvi’sly. Or sexual.”

“No.”

His posture was defensive. John tried to choose his words carefully.

“Ok. Are you... avoiding them?” he asked slowly.

“No need.”

“Oh... um, why?”

“Extremely few wish to pursue me after they witness my winning personality. Even rarer that I’m interested in anyone. And statistically improbable to find someone in both groups.”

“The woman...”

“For god’s sake, John. She is intellectually engaging, a challenge, a much appreciated playmate in a world full of dullards. My mind adores her. But she wants me begging, humiliated and at her mercy. You make a lot of assumptions about my... kinks.”

John nearly choked. When he saw the man smirking, he glared. He had no doubt it was purposeful.

“So just to be clear, that’s not your thing?”

“Not as such.”

“Oh! But something like th-?” John grinned.

“Shut up!”

“Is’at why your arms were behind your back?”

“Shut up!”

John put his hands up in a placating gesture. “So you two never?”

“Never.”

“Have you ever? With anyone?”

“I thought alcohol was supposed to make you brave, Captain Watson. Still can’t say it.”

“You think I don’ get you’re trying ta make me uncomf’table too? Fine. Ever had sex?”

“Not really.”

“Wha’s that mean?”

“A... thing happened. But not really sex. Doubt you wanna know the details.”

John hesitated. Sherlock glanced at him.

“Really? You wanna know?”

“My big fat curiosity is wha’ started us down this rabbit hole and you’re shocked?”

“Point taken.”

“So what happened?”

“I’ll tell if you tell.”

“Tell what?”

“Your first time. ‘Fooling around’.”

“Oh. Um. K. I - uh. There was this girl named, uh, Becca. We were at a party. Playing truth er dare.”

“Wha’s that?”

“Really? Truth or dare? Mos’ cliché game fer randy teens?”

Sherlock glowered and prompted him to explain.

“You take turns askin’ people if they want t’ answer a question or perform an act. The point is fer it to be embarrassing. It’s an escuse to say or do things you secretly wanto.”

“Like copulate.”

“Things don’ us’ly get so far in that age group. So some’ne dared Becca to give me a lap dance.”

A skeptical eyebrow rose on Sherlock’s face. “A lap dance by a 16 year old...”

“How’d you know how old... never mind. Yeah, she didn’ really know how, but teen hormones an’ all. I liked it well enough.”

“That’s your story?”

“No. Later... not much later, we hid in an empty room and snogged. We, um, well, it was enough she was pressed up against me an’ then she put her hand...” John took a deep breath, “on m... my cock... over the trousers. I would’ve... finished, but we were interrupted.”

“I see.”

“K, now your turn.”

“My story is.... a bit... Well, similar but not... I dunno if wholesome is the right word.”

“S’ok.”

“I had a friend. Well, I thought he was... Remember friends an’ people... not my area.”

“Did he hurt you?” John felt quite a bit more sober all of a sudden.

Sherlock’s deep rumbling laugh reassured him. “My hero. No, never been hurt that way.”

“Good,” John stated with all his military gruffness infused into the single word.

“We were at uni. In my room and... high. We got rather int’rested in reducing the space between us. Then he... um, we... snogged.”

John tried not to giggle at Sherlock saying snog.

“Same as you. Pressed t’gether. He pulled my hand to his cock. Didn’t stay jus’ over trousers, though. He had the expected reaction. Orgasm.”

John waited, listening intently, but Sherlock didn’t continue.

“Then?”

“Oh. The end. He left. Said he had t’ go... somewhere. Memory’s a bit hazy. Drugs.”

“He jus’ left?!”

“It did seem jarring to me as well, but you’ve more exp’rience than me.”

“That prick! He did a runner!”

“Was ‘e supposed to stay?”

“That inconsid’rate piece o’... ok, wait, staying calm. Staying ration’l. The wine’s not helping.” John made an enormous effort to think clearly.

“Courage at the cost of brain cells.”

“Git. Ok, yeah, in ‘mature’ situations he should’ve stayed and... not jus’ used you n run off. But you were at uni... young and idiots. He mighta been scared. ‘Cause you’re blokes.”

“Ah. At the time, I din’t understand. Thought I did it wrong. But later I thought the same as you.”

“Yeah, don’ worry over it. Did you like it, though?”

“As it was happ’ning, yes. Afterwards, not as much...”

“Sorry.”

Sherlock waved it off.

“Tha’s the only time you...?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“Why’d’you find that objet- objesh- ... upsetting?”

“It could be so much better’n that.”

“Itsit so import’nt?”

“Dunno. Seems like it.”

“Typical.”

“That’s me. Typ’cal.”

“Bollocks. You shot a man fer me on our first case, knowing me barely more’n a day. You’re special. Knew it then. Still true now.”

John grinned. Sherlock was a sentimental drunk.

“You’re special too, y’know? An’ you wank special too.”

Sherlock grimaced.

“Don’t be ‘mbarassed. S’pose can’t blame you. Dunno how I’d feel if you saw me. But iss fine.”

“So you said.”

“How’d you do that then? With no touching?”

“Ah....” Sherlock fidgeted and John imagined that he looked a shade more pink in the face.

“Is there a trick to it?”

“I don’t... I never... well-”

 “Relax. Ev’ryone does it. Well almost.”

“I’m aware,” Sherlock snapped. “It’s not... I don’ control when I can... do it. I think hormones are... a factor.”

“And...”

“An’ muscles... near my... groin... tightening... conti- conrib-... helps.”

“Is that it?”

“Rest is ‘n my head.”

“Like fantasy?”

Sherlock sighed. “If y’ like.”

“Christ, wha’ does Sherlock Holmes fantasize about?”

His friend looked distressed at that.

“You reckon I get off on serial killers or some’ing?”

“Shit, sorry. No. NO. Not at all. Really nothing like tha’. It’s jus’, it’s like you’re above it all. So. I’m a dick. Really, I don’ mean anything by it. Sorry. I’m stupid for ‘specting somesing exotic.”

“Exotic?”

“I’m a moron, an’ rude. Jus’ ignore me, k?” John buried his head in his hands.

“You mean it in a good... or bad way?”

“Good... diff’rent’s good.”

A wry smile tilted Sherlock’s lips. “I dunno if my fantasies are exotic. Hate t’ disappoint.”

“C’n I jus’ sew my mouth shut an’ die now?”

“I think ‘bout being watched. Sometimes.”

John’s head snapped up. “Oh?”

“I’ma show off. I ‘magine people like t’ see me. I like t’.... watch too.”

“That’s...”

“Odd?”

“No.”

“Oh. D’you think about that?”

“Not much. Well, I guess-”

“John, don’t pander t-“

“I’m not. I like watchin too. Not b’ing watched, though.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s unfortunate about my gender. Oth’wise walking in on me mighta been jus’ what we both like.” Sherlock’s face contorted in mortification about what had just slipped out. “Sorry. Drunk.”

John pressed his lips together to keep the smile off his face, but the harder he fought the more difficult it became and soon he was shaking trying to hold in the laughter. Sherlock risked a glance at him when he saw the movement and the moment of eye contact broke him. He snorted and couldn’t suppress the giggles any longer.

Sherlock froze, but then his face softened and he smiled and chuckled along with him.

 

***

 

Life continued at 221 B. At first there weren’t any changes. But eventually a few things started to pop up here and there.

Sherlock stopped pulling that act he did when the topic of sex was brought up. You know, the one where he blinks in a confused ‘this is not a conversation I know how to navigate safely’ sort of way. Or sometimes he just pretends it’s beneath his notice and changes the subject. Yeah, that stopped. At least around John.

See, some of the people who knew Sherlock had copped on to this little quirk of his and liked to play a game of making Sherlock uncomfortable.  A fact, no doubt, that Sherlock had noticed. But that was no longer going to work. John’s favorite example happened one afternoon when they bumped into none other than their favorite DI Lestrade at John’s local.

“Hello, lads!” boomed the detective. He raised his pint at John and Sherlock as they made their way over to his table.

“Greg. What are you doing here?” When John had managed to drag Sherlock to a pub, he hadn’t expected to see any ‘Work’ faces.

“Divorce is final. I’m a free man,” Greg beamed. “I’m celebrating.”

“He’s on the pull.” Sherlock deadpanned.

Lestrade was momentarily surprised, but recovered quickly enough. “As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t mind getting a leg over.” He smirked at Sherlock. “Have any suggestions, eh? Come on, can you deduce who might be willing to go home with me?” he teased, fully expecting Sherlock to retreat from the conversation.

Instead, he intently scanned the large crowd of patrons for maybe a minute before returning his attention to his companions. “The woman of Lebanese descent showing a tasteful amount of cleavage. She’s sitting at your 4 o’clock, and with a pint rather than a mixed drink. She fetishizes authority figures. This is not her local, so she doesn’t want to be recognized. Looking for one night stand. No interest in anything past that. Your body language indicates decently high hormone levels at the moment. Assuming you don’t botch your introduction or drink too much, the probability you will enjoy a very satisfactory orgasm tonight is quite high.”

John couldn’t contain his amused grin while Greg’s mouth hung open in shock. “Well, I’ll be damned. He’s not having me on, is he?”

“I’d take his advice if I were you,” John assured him.

“Better act now before someone else works up the courage to chat her up,” Sherlock warned.

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks, m-mate.” Lestrade frowned at the instinctive use of the word mate, but heeded his advice and made his way over to the lady in question.

“That was nice of you.”

“The work of a minute. Simple enough.”

“You never help me pull.”

“And why would you need my help? You’ve never had any trouble. Now keeping a woman, that’s a different game all together. And one with which I couldn’t possibly provide any assistance.”

“Fair enough.”

 

Another change in Sherlock showed itself one afternoon when the two of them had just returned home after closing a case that had had a rather exciting conclusion. They made their way up the stairs, joking and laughing, adrenaline still singing in their veins.

“Christ, Sherlock. We needed a good case like this.”

“Agreed.”

“How in the hell am I still standing? Haven’t slept more than a few hours in the past few days. And god, I must reek. Can’t even remember when either of us last showered. Have you been wearing the same clothes this whole time? Have I?”

“You can have the first shower, John. You’re dying for a good wank. It’ll relax you and then you’ll pass out for good long while.”

“I...” John decided to just roll with is. “Yeah, sure.” And he proceeded to the shower where he indeed had a lovely wank thanks to his adrenaline high.

 

There were a couple other changes in John’s best friend, but he wasn’t entirely certain they were real. That is to say, it could be just his own perception that had changed. He couldn’t be sure. Firstly, it seemed to him that Sherlock’s eyes were a bit more prone to wandering... John could have sworn he saw his friend’s gaze land on a few attractive bodies lately. Had he always done that? Or was John just imagining it?

Then there was his behavior. John worried that he was stereotyping now that he had an indication that Sherlock was possibly gay. Maybe. But it seemed that his friend’s mannerisms and speech had become just a bit more... feminine? Possibly. He wasn’t sure. Was he seeing things? Or was the man just posh? He kept these thoughts to himself.

 

All the while, the thought that kept pinging away in the back of John’s mind was that Sherlock hadn’t ever really had sex.

The tragedy of it was that it didn’t seem like he was adverse to it in the slightest. Then again, it didn’t seem like he was actively seeking it out either. John really couldn’t be sure of anything. But he couldn’t shake the idea that Sherlock might want sex like any other person, but wasn’t confident enough to go for it.

Perhaps it was an army thing, or just a bloke thing, but when you find out one of your mates hasn’t been laid in a long time or ever, well.... it becomes your mission to fix that for him. But John wasn’t sure Sherlock would appreciate any meddling of that sort. Still, he couldn’t shake the thought.

 

Who would like to have sex with Sherlock Holmes?

The woman: someone who is attracted to his mind, but not intimidated by him; someone who likes to be dominant sexually; someone who is competitive.

Molly: someone who is attracted to his mind, but is completely intimidated by him; someone who is entirely submissive (at least in day to day life), someone prone to hero worship

Someone: who hasn’t ever heard him speak.

No, no, no. That was no good!

 

Who would Sherlock Holmes like to have sex with?

????

NOT someone who is afraid of him, nor someone who wants to.... dominate him? Or did he? What had Sherlock said exactly? The Woman would want him to beg, that he remembered clearly because she said it herself right in front of him. So no begging. Or humiliation. That was it.

The memory of Sherlock’s body gripped with pleasure with his hands behind his back flash in his mind for the thousandth time. Did he have a thing for bondage maybe? Or self restraint?

John shook himself. This was pointless. Just because he may or may not fantasize about something, doesn’t mean he’d actually want to do it for real. Besides which, he was dreaming if he thought he could play matchmaker for Sherlock. Best to just leave it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is complete. I'll post each chapter as my beta finishes them. If you find any mistakes, feel free to let me know.


	2. Chapter 2

A new case fell in their lap. An exciting one. Well, it was more exciting for Sherlock. Very difficult. The culprit was a sly one. John appreciated that it got them out of London for a change. But what started out as a fun new puzzle turned into an obsession that dragged on for weeks. Pictures and clippings and yarn littered the hotel room they were staying at. Which was one room, one bed. Mycroft (or the government, if there was a difference) was footing the bill for this one and, given the length of their investigation, had decided to economize. Not that they ever slept at the same time... That would have been easier.

The point was John was stuck spending every moment with an increasingly frustrated and frazzled Sherlock who was refusing to eat or sleep unless John physically forced him to sit his arse down. Instead of worrying about how awkward sharing a bed would be, he was worrying about Sherlock keeling over and cracking his great fat skill open. And, Jesus, the temper tantrums. He could put any three year old to shame.

John was hesitant about it at first, but eventually decided drugging the man before he had a psychotic break was the only way. Being a doctor had its perks. He lamented that he didn’t even feel a bit guilty, but when it finally kicked in, the silence was nirvana.

John situated Sherlock on one side of the bed, pulled his shoes and trousers off. No, he didn’t feel weird about pulling off the man’s trousers. For years, John has borne witness to Sherlock in various states of undress without him showing the least bit of modesty: from threadbare pajamas that clearly showed the outline of his cock, to those posh sheets, to nothing but a pair of thin pants. John started to unbutton Sherlock’s shirt as well, but when he revealed he wasn’t wearing a vest underneath, he thought it best to leave him some covering. He could suffer the wrinkles.

Finally, he too settled in for a good night’s rest. His last thought before he fell asleep was how bad it sounded that he had to drug Sherlock to sleep with him for the first time.

 

***

 

John woke up to the sound of Sherlock’s phone beeping. He glanced at his bedmate to see he’d also been roused, and also looked a bit groggy. John grabbed the phone since it was on his side of the bed anyway.

“Text from Mycroft. Just checking in on the case.”

Sherlock snorted to express his contempt as he slowly blinked, trying to fully wake up.

“Christ, it’s later than I thought. Congratulations, you slept a full ten hours.”

Sherlock turned his head to glare at John. “You slipped me something.”

“Too right.”

“I’ll get you back.”

“Probably still worth it. Besides it’s not like you’d think twice about dru...um...”

Sherlock brow and nose scrunched up as John’s voice trailed off and a moment later he realized what direction the man’s eyes had been looking when he’d lost his ability to speak.

Sherlock faced the ceiling and took a deep breath. “This is your fault.”

“How’s that then?” John challenged, crossing his arms.

“If I weren’t so well rested, my transport would hardly be capable of... ‘this’,” he hissed, gesturing to the offending appendage.

“Honestly, I’d rather deal with you having a stiffy if it means you’ll behave like something approximating an adult. Now, why don’t you take care of that while I go find us some breakfast. And you ARE eating it, Sherlock.” John took his silence for assent.

 

He should have known better.

When he returned, Sherlock had not done a bloody thing about the tent in his pants and was by all indicators back working on the case.

“I thought we had a deal. I gave you plenty of time.”

“Wrong. You made a suggestion,” Sherlock replied without looking away from his wall of clues. “I chose to ignore it. You _forced_ me to lose _hours_ of my time working the case in order to ‘sleep’. I’m not about to lose more time just to preserve your precious sensibilities. This IS your fault.”

“And if we get a lead? Are you going to go out with that for everyone to see?”

“My coat is long enough to conceal anything untoward.”

“Oh, that’s all I need. You getting heat stroke because you can’t be arsed to have a wank!”

“Relax, John. I assure you, the overheating will be sufficiently uncomfortable to kill my libido long before I’m in any danger.”

“You make no sense! Rather than doing something about your little problem,” Sherlock’s back straightened at the word ‘little’, “-and by ‘doing something’ I mean a very pleasurable activity which I have personal knowledge that you are skilled at- you’d prefer to torture your body into submission just to save a few minutes!” John threw his hands in the air and sat on the nearby sofa.

“I do hope you are finished with your little tantrum. I’d like to focus now, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Sit down and eat!”

“I think you’ve wasted enough of-“

“Sit! Eat!” John used his captain voice. “You can bloody well chew food at the same time as staring at that wall and don’t give me any bollocks about digestion slowing you down. Your brain needs fuel and if you try to argue this, you no longer get to hold the title of rational human being.”

John stalked over to him and shoved a take away box into his hands before returning to his place on the sofa. Sherlock huffed, sat on the bed, and reluctantly forked mouthfuls of food into his face as he continued to analyze all the evidence.

Thankfully, Sherlock’s erection receded as he ate his breakfast.

Still irritated, John commented, “So, no food fetish, then?”

Sherlock looked at him sideways. “Still curious, I see. You’ve been rather preoccupied with my sexual proclivities lately.”

“Dick.”

“Hm. Quite.”

 

***

 

That _would_ have been the end of it, but of course it was not to be. As it turned out, Sherlock’s body had become very insistent about its needs. Needs that Sherlock had been ignoring for the last few weeks.

That is to say, Sherlock’s libido was making itself known. Multiple times over the next few days, he was plagued by sudden erections at random times. And on top of that, his general demeanor had returned to full on twat mode. John wholeheartedly believed it was because Sherlock was incapable of dealing with Work frustration at the same time as sexual frustration. Obviously there was a simple solution, but every time John suggested it, it turned into a shouting match that ended with them giving each other the silent treatment for the next few hours. Then eventually the argument would cycle back around again.

“For fuck’s sake, Sherlock! Your body’s begging for a tension release. You’re used to being able to masturbate on the regular. At this point, the distraction _has_ to outweigh the time cost. Why don’t you just get it over with?!”

“I CAN’T!” Sherlock shouted back, clearly at his wit’s end.

John’s anger quickly dissipated. His friend wasn’t being obstinate, he had a problem. “Ok. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Just leave it!” Sherlock growled.

“Hey, come on. Don’t get all English on me. Sex taboos are illogical, right?  Do I need to get a bottle of wine here?”

Sherlock manically scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. “I’m fine.”

“You’re clearly not fine. You’re vibrating out of your skin.”

“How observant. Is that a professional diagnosis?”

John ignored the attitude. “Why do you say you can’t?”

“Because I can’t!”

John inhaled carefully through his nose and exhaled through his mouth as he held onto his temper. “Please explain what you mean by that.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried by now? Even you should have been able to tell that the errands I sent you on were entirely unnecessary except for the purpose of securing privacy.”

John winced. He had felt his little trips were pointless, but he was so used to trusting that Sherlock was operating around a bigger picture that he didn’t question it too much. “How the hell would I know that when you always keep me in the dark about your plans!”

John stopped himself again and forced his hands to unclench. He even did some counting exercises that he’d read were good for anger management. Bloody useless internet articles. Now was not the time to lose control. Sherlock was clearly in distress.

“Help me understand this. Please.” When his friend looked unwilling to elaborated, he changed tactics. “Ok, let me walk through this then. Like deductions. If I’m wrong, you can take the piss, but if I’m right, just try to remember I’m your friend and you can trust me.”

Sherlock stared for a moment with his jaw clenched, then nodded with clear resolve.

“Ok, so you say you’ve tried. And you weren’t successful. Ok...” John took a moment to gather his thoughts. “First idea. Was it because you felt pressure to finish before I returned?”

“I... don’t think so.”

“Ok, can you tell me why you don’t think that’s it?”

“...I ...My predictions of how long any task will take you to complete are reliably accurate. I know when you’ll return and I give up long before that deadline.”

“Ok.” John chewed his lip. He visibly braced himself. “Next question. Remember I’m a doctor. Does the problem occur while trying to achieve orgasm or is it while you’re... working up to that level?”

“Working up to it.”

“Alright. Do you feel it’s a physical problem? Are you getting a lack of sensation?”

“I...I’m not... I don’t know how to tell if that’s... I don’t think...” Sherlock shook his head, but John could tell it was in frustration rather than indicating an answer.

“Fine. What about your psychological state? Are you distracted? Worried?”

“You know the Work comes first!”

“Yes... Is that what you’re not telling me, then? It’s because of the case?”

“I can’t stop my mind, John! How can I possibly concentrate on what my body is doing when the case is right there, unsolved, and waiting for me? It doesn’t work. My body is betraying me. Neither it nor my mind will function while the other clamors for control!”

“Breath, Sherlock.” John had crept forward and put his hands on the distressed man’s shoulders. “We’ll sort it out,” he tried to sooth his friend with a calm voice. He put his hand on his own chest and encouraged Sherlock to watch him breath. He exaggerated his inhales and exhales so he would follow John’s example.

As he was doing that, he tried to think of a solution to Sherlock’s problem.

“So your mind won’t stop long enough for you to focus on your body....”

“Apparently.”

John ushered Sherlock over the sofa and sat him down.

“Is that often a problem for you?”

“Sometimes.”

“How do you usually deal with it?”

“Mostly, I don’t. I just give up and try another day. Or... you saw. I listen to music.”

“Ah, yes. You were wearing headphones. I take it you’ve already tried that.”

Sherlock nodded tensely.

“Have you tried... porn?”

“It is incredibly time consuming to find pornography that isn’t ruined by the deductions I make about the people in it. And none of the videos I’ve already found are doing it for me at the moment. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m not. I mean- You just... I wasn’t expecting you to have ever watched porn. Recreationally.”

“Recreationally? As opposed to what?”

“For a case. Or research. Or something.”

“Has your image of me been ruined forever?” he asked sardonically.

“Well, yeah, but I think that happened a while back when I walked into my flat expecting to find my posh git friend in his posh suit, but instead I got the image of pale Englishman, a red cock, and an ecstatic O face.” John nudged him playfully.

“You forget where you left your keys constantly, but your mind retains that particular memory in vivid detail.”

“I’m sure you’re flattered. Anyway, so porn isn’t going to work.”

“I can’t concentrate on it.”

“Ok... hmm. How to keep the attention of Sherlock Holmes.” John rubbed his jaw as he thought about it. “A good puzzle, usually.”

“Well, there’s no puzzle in my pants so that’s not going to help.”

“Ha. I rather think there is a puzzle in your pants, but that’s the problem. And it’s not a good puzzle and wouldn’t keep your interest. What makes a good case? A challenge? No, that’s no good here. This is already challenging enough. Hmm. You tend to get particularly ‘excited’ when you find something new.”

“No double entendres, please, before I get a headache.”

John snickered. “Fine. But what about something new?”

“How do you mean?”

“I dunno. A new position... or technique... or aid...”

“Aid?”

“A toy. Sex toy.”

“Oh.” Sherlock made the mind palace face for a few moments. Then he spent the next few minutes doing something on his phone.

After a while John got impatient. “What are you doing?”

“There are very few things I haven’t tried in regards to self-pleasure. Mostly things that I find immensely unappealing. However, it’s possible there are things I haven’t thought of or new products available. I’m doing a quick internet search.”

“You’ve done almost everything?”

“Yes. And now you’re imagining it. Stop it.”

“Sorry, my brain’s too primitive.” He scrutinized Sherlock as he clicked through webpages.

“Now, you’re trying to think of something I won’t have tried. Unlikely.”

“Could happen.”

“I don’t suppose there’s a nearby sex shop.” Sherlock shook his head. “This is a waste of time,” he growled, stood up, and threw his phone over to the bed. “Even if there was a toy that I don’t already own, the chances of it being available locally are slim.”

“And your stress levels can’t take another few days of waiting. Ordering online is out. Do you really have a bunch of toys squirreled away in your bedroom?”

“An impressive collection. Many I made myself.”

“Ever try heating them up?”

“Really, John? Temperature? That’s elementary.”

“All those times I called you an arrogant wanker and I never realized how true it was. Fine, have you tried it suspended upside down while wearing women’s lingerie and nipple clamps?”

Sherlock just raised an eyebrow.

“You have?!”

“While I’m sure you’re aware I enjoy costumes for a case, they don’t hold that particular kind of appeal. And yes, in fact I have tried suspension, in numerous positions. Upside down results in a headache if it goes on too long. I discontinued my exploration of suspension as I found it more trouble than it was worth, and I didn’t bother testing any toys to enhance the experience. So no nipple clamps. Do close your mouth, John. It’s not a flattering look.”

“Bloody hell.”

“It seems we’re back to square one. Unless you have something useful to add, I’ll be getting back the case now.” Sherlock sprang up and went over to his laptop. Tension continued to radiate from him.

As Sherlock worked, John spent the rest of the afternoon contemplating (oh, dear Christ how had his life become this?) what might intrigue the frazzled detective enough to keep his attention on his willy. He started googling and throwing out suggestions every so often. One by one, Sherlock shot them down without even looking up.

“Shower head?”

“Done it.”

“Exercise? Working out?”

“Doesn’t work.”

“How flexible are you?”

“Not enough for what you’re thinking.”

“Latex?”

“In many variations.”

“Food?”

“You mean as toys? Done it.”

“Sounding?”

“Done it.”

“Balloons?”

“As well as other inflatables.”

“Wartenberg wheel?”

“Done it.”

“A sqweel?”

“Own it.”

“Menthol?”

“Even you’ve done that.”

“Breathing techniques.”

“Boring.”

 

In the end, all John achieved was giving himself quite the education.

And making himself rather desperate for a wank.

“Oh, goodie,” Sherlock griped, “Now we’re both frustrated. I’m not leaving. You can use the bathroom.” Now, how the bloody fuck could he tell when he hadn’t so much as looked at John for the last several hours? He was just sitting propped up against the bed’s headboard with his laptop.

“Do you always know when I want to-“

“Yes. Always!”

John chewed on his lip. He did have a couple of ideas... But he really wasn’t sure he wanted to suggest them.

“You said once that you thought about being watched.”

“Yeeeessss. And?”

“Have you ever actually done it?”

“Have someone watch me?”

“Yeah.”

“Not in person. Online only. It didn’t work. It’s too detached if I can’t see them. And if I can see them, I don’t appreciate their efforts to participate.”

Well, that idea was out. John took a deep breath.

“What if I watched you?”

Slowly, Sherlock turned to look at him. He studied John for a moment.

“Even if you went through with it, it wouldn’t work.”

“Why not?”

“You wouldn’t actually want to be watching me. Too straight. Too embarrassed. And I hardly think I’d get off on you wishing you were somewhere else.”

John didn’t argue because he honestly wasn’t sure if it would be awkward to sit there as Sherlock touched himself (or not touched himself, as he had the ability to do). Still, he actually rather liked seeing men jerking off in videos. He hadn’t been truly aware of that until recently. He’d known he liked seeing the ‘money shot’. Though in the videos he’d watched, there was always a woman involved, even if it was just a sexy body nearby while the man took care of business. Then he looked up videos when he became curious about the hands free version of wanking and saw a lot of them with just a single bloke showing off for the camera. He found that he still liked it even with no women present. He didn’t think much of it. Besides that, there had been a few times he’d had to live in close quarters with other men and had heard them going at it. It usually set him off too.

Maybe it would be fine to watch. But then maybe Sherlock was right. It might be too strange. Actively staring at someone right in front of you is a lot different than just hearing them in the dark.

That only left one idea. John’s heart started to race at the thought of actually saying it out loud. Adrenaline. And that’s probably what made him want to do it. He loved that rush.

“What if I did it for you?” The look of shock on Sherlock’s face was enormously gratifying. “If you wouldn’t be comfortable with that, I get it, but...”

“You’re not gay.”

“Well, not so much, no. But, it would be new to you, right? Could keep your attention?”

Sherlock didn’t answer.

“It wouldn’t put me off. As you noticed, reading all that stuff on the internet has me a bit hot under the collar. With the way I’m feeling right now, I’m liking the idea actually.”

Sherlock swallowed nervously. “S-So... what-what would uh it um...” he stammered. “What exactly... is it that you’re... suggesting?”

“Don’t worry. I’m not trying to pressure you into anything. I’m just offering a... I guess a friendly hand job. Wow, that sounds stupid out loud. I just mean I could get you off - with my hand - so you can think again. Or not, if you don’t want... that.” John cringed, wondering if he sounded as much bumbling fool as he suspected.

“And what about...uh, I’m given to understand that it is... expected... customary to reciprocate sexual activities.”

“What? Oh... you mean - you’re asking if I want you to, um...”

“To be clear... you know my lack of experience and difficulty with social situations in general - and sex in particular. I need to know if there’s some subtext I’m missing in this conversation. Like how asking someone if they want to get coffee is code for asking for a date.”

“No missing subtext. Just a hand job. Though, actually, if there’s something you need ‘in the moment’ that would help get you to, um, orgasm, I’m fine with adding things to the table. Oh, and... no, you don’t have to do anything. I mean with reciprocating. You can if you want. I mean you can touch me however you... Just, whatever you feel like.”

“What do you feel like?”

John huffed out a breath. He was tired of the nerves and the tiptoeing. He just wanted Sherlock to make a decision, so they could get on with whatever he chose. “Christ, at the moment I just need to come. Here with you or in the bathroom on my own. Currently not too picky how it happens.” He was erect in his jeans (a fact his friend couldn’t possibly have missed) and had been for quite some time. On top of that, the tension of the situation was tricking his brain into thinking he was in danger. And he was most definitely getting off on it. Probably not his healthiest personality trait.

“Ok.”

“Ok?”

“Must I repeat myself?”

“No. I....” He stared. “Do you mean now?” John wasn’t sure what the current state Sherlock was in. His laptop was covering any evidence.

“Yes, now would be... good.”

“Alright.”

“...”

John took a step towards the bed. “Um, maybe put away the laptop.”

Sherlock set it aside and John could see that sure enough, the man was ready; in body at least. John moved to stand beside him, but didn’t really know how to get things started. He was usually good at this part. But this part was usually with a woman. And there would be kissing and flirting.

“Oh. If, uh, if you want to stop at any point, you just have to say. I promise I will.”

“Are you giving me the consent speech because I’m a virgin?”

“I’m just making sure you know you can change your mind.”

“Understood.”

“K. Um. How do you want to...?”

“You’re the expert.”

John snorted at that. He didn’t feel like one. “Not with this. Um... well, maybe it’s best you take off your trousers.”

Sherlock nodded and moved to stand up. John hastily shifted to make room.

“Are you going to remove yours as well?” he asked as he quickly dropped his own to the floor.

“It’s not exactly necessary, depending... Do you want me to?”

“Given our imminent activity, it seems more balanced.”

John reckoned it would make his friend feel less vulnerable, so he stripped down to his pants and vest. In response, Sherlock decided to take off his dressing gown, revealing his bare torso completely. They faced each other, yet again unsure how to begin.

“Uh, it’s probably better if you’re not standing for this.”

“Then how should I...?”

“I hadn’t really thought it through, if I’m honest.”

Silence grew as they both fidgeted, then Sherlock spoke, “Perhaps it would be more familiar to you if we were laying on the bed with my back to your front. I believe people call it a reach around. Does it count as a reach around if you’re not actually penetrating me?”

“Not sure.”

“Well, in that position my penis would be pointing the direction you’re used to.”

“Fine. Wait, we should get a towel. Don’t want either of us having to deal with a wet spot.” John hastily retrieved a towel from the bathroom and laid it out on the bed. Sherlock wordlessly handed him a small bottle of lube, then crawled over next to the towel. He hesitated a moment before slipping off his pants as well. Seeing that his friend was completely nude now, John impulsively took off his vest. It did seem more balanced that way.

Bracing himself, John shuffled into place behind him. He took an ungraceful moment to sort out where he should put his other arm so it didn’t fall asleep, and to reposition a pillow under his head. Then there was nothing else left to do. He hesitated. “I’m going to touch you now,” he announced.

“Ok.”

“Right.” Now, how to begin? Should he just grab Sherlock’s cock? Seemed a bit abrupt. With women there would be foreplay. He’d touch and tease other places before reaching between their legs. But with them there was some seduction, and maybe even romance. Right now he was just doing a favor for a mate. Maybe Sherlock would think it was inappropriate. He did promise just a hand job unless he was asked for more.

John started to reach, but he just couldn’t. It was too jarring. Instead, he slid his open palm over Sherlock’s abdomen. It twitched a bit under his fingers. He tried to make his touch steady and soothing. He found his arm wasn’t long enough to keep much space between their bodies so he gave up trying to keep his chest from pressing up against Sherlock’s back, and just settled for turning his hips away. He didn’t think he should be rubbing himself against his friend’s backside. John continued sliding his hand, exploring what he could reach. He felt Sherlock’s lack of breasts. Odd. But then he heard the man’s breath hitch when he lightly brushed over a nipple.

“Alright?”

“Fine,” he assured, sounding breathy. John could feel his heartbeat. Fast, but in normal range. He felt a deep rumble of a laugh through the other man’s chest. “Ever the doctor.” He sounded steadier now. John grinned and found he had to resist the urge to kiss him between the shoulder blades.

“Well, I am ‘taking care of you’.”

“I’ve told you, no double entendres. I may lose my erection.”

John merely chuckled and began caressing Sherlock’s thighs. He put a bit of pressure and guided him to lean back against him and open his legs. Now John could reach the sensitive inner skin. With the two of them so close, he could feel and hear Sherlock’s every reaction. He was definitely responding. John brushed over his nipples again and that got a choked off sound from the man’s throat. _Lovely_. A few more brushes and his hips started making tiny bucking motions.

Remembering he wasn’t supposed to tease him, John slid his hand down to cup Sherlock’s bollocks. The man gasped. Then he tried to stifle a moan when John gently fondled them. “You don’t have to worry about keeping quiet. The sounds are part of it.”

“You don’t have to worry about keeping your penis from touching me. I like-“ his words ended in a hiss when John pressed a finger into Sherlock’s perineum. John’s own personal preference. Habit really. Then John shifted a bit and brought his own very aroused cock up against the man’s bum. Feeling Sherlock’s little hip motions like this felt surprisingly intimate. And exciting.

John couldn’t see from this position. Were his eyes shut? Was his penis as angry red and engorged as last time? He brought his fingers around the shaft to check. Sherlock stopped breathing for a moment before inhaling shakily. It certainly felt fully aroused. He took a moment to familiarize himself with feeling another man, keeping his touch light for now. There was a strange disconnect in his mind. His brain was used to feeling his hand on his own flesh, so when there was no corresponding sensation on his cock, it was like he felt numb. He shook it off and concentrated on the fact that this was Sherlock’s body, not his own.

John rolled away, grabbed the bottle of lube he’d bought Sherlock days ago and squeezed some into his palm. He spread it over his friend’s hot skin, this time paying more attention to the head.

“Ah!”

John smiled against his back and hoped that this felt as good for him as it sounded. Then Sherlock spread his legs a bit wider and firmly pressed backward against John’s groin. He groaned into his skin. Well, wasn’t that brilliant. John took that as a signal and stopped holding himself back. He ground his hips forward, slotting himself between two arse cheeks and wishing he wasn’t wearing any pants. “God.”

Sherlock reached back and started tugging at his waistband. “You want, I think you want...” Amazing. Even distracted as he was, he was still making deductions.

“You sure?”

“Said you wanna come. Skin. More skin. Mmmm. Do it.”

John wriggled out of his pants and oh, was Sherlock so right. The skin on skin sensation was perfect. And that arse was ridiculously soft.

Now that the lube was properly coating it, John took hold of Sherlock’s cock in a firm grip and started to wank him properly - slowly at first. He bucked and writhed and made breathy “uh, uh, uh,” sounds. All of which was quickly ratcheting up John’s already high arousal level. Then John sped up his stroking. Immediately Sherlock’s body started to tense and he knew the man was on the brink. He remembered to rub his thumb over the glans on the upstroke... and then Sherlock was shaking and crying out, his cock jerking in John’s hand.

Christ, if he didn’t love the way that felt, how it sounded. John frantically rutted against Sherlock’s warm arse.

In hindsight, it shouldn’t have been so surprising. He had been randy for hours and he hadn’t gotten laid in months. Nevertheless, it did surprise him when, in less than a minute, his pleasure peaked and he was coming between them. He grunted and whined and barely kept himself from biting into Sherlock’s shoulder.

As the aftershocks of his orgasm began to fade and he could think again, he realized he was still holding Sherlock’s not quite as firm penis in his hand. He gingerly let go and wiped his hand off as best he could on the towel.

Without thinking about it too much, he decided to wrap his arm around Sherlock’s chest and enjoy the afterglow, pressing himself snugly up against him. He absentmindedly stroked patches of skin here and there, listening as their breathing and heart rates returned to normal. He wondered if he should check that his friend was ok. His body felt relaxed, but John couldn’t see his face. It was his first time being touched like this, after all.

“You ok?”

“Mmm. Surprisingly very ok. Excellent even.”

“Surprisingly?”

“Considering your semen is smeared all over my back.”

John giggled. “Can’t say I know how that feels. It’s always on my front side. I’ll clean us up in a minute.”

Sherlock started shifting about oddly. Like wriggling, but slower. John thought he might be uncomfortable and fidgeting, but then he reached back and ran his fingers along his hip. Oh. Sherlock was feeling John’s skin and was using his whole body to do it. He remembered the sensation of a warm naked body against his own must be new for him. Couldn’t blame him for that. Sherlock’s body felt new to him too.

Grinning, he kissed the shoulder in front of his face and rubbed his cheek against it.

“Mmm. I can feel your stubble.”

So John did it some more.

Sherlock hummed, seemingly content. John was loath to move, but he was going to have to clean the spunk off of them before it dried. Sighing, he eventually hefted himself up. “Back in a mo’.” He returned with a damp flannel, wiping himself off as he walked to the bed. Then he set about cleaning Sherlock too. First his back, then he gently wiped the lube from his now flaccid penis. Sherlock watched intently, appearing fascinated.

Once he was finished, John wadded the flannel up in the now soiled towel and threw them off the bed. Then he curled up behind Sherlock again.

“This is different to what I expected.”

“I guess it would be. What did you expect?”

“A friendly hand job.”

John groaned, grimacing. “I’m going to have to hear about that for a long time, aren’t I?”

“And then I was going to give you a ‘friendly hand job’ in return.”

“Turns out you didn’t have to. I was too worked up.”

“I didn’t _get_ to.”

“I thought you just offered that because that’s what people do. Reciprocate. You seemed worried.”

“Just anxiousness. This isn’t my area. But I’m a quick study. I have done it once before. I’m sure I could have learnt to do it well, given the chance.”

“No doubt.”

“Do you suppose I’m still a virgin?”

“Oh. That’s... People don’t really agree on the definition of virgin. Depends on the person, I guess.”

“What do you think?”

John considered it. “Well... I think we just had sex... so I guess you’re not.”

“You consider this sex?”

“Felt like it to me.”

Sherlock shifted around until they were facing each other. He was frowning as he observed John closely, looking for something.

“You ok?” John brought his hand to Sherlock’s hip, but stayed ready to back off if needed.

“Are you?”

“Yeah. Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You did just have sex. With a man. While not being gay.” He looked worried.

John sighed and began petting Sherlock’s skin again. “You still think I’m worried about that? I told you why I started saying that, and I really never thought much about it before people started mistaking us for a couple.”

“Are you worried you’re not straight anymore?”

“No.”

“You’re confidant in your heterosexuality?”

John laughed. “Maybe I’m a bit less hetero than I thought. Gayish.”

“It wouldn’t bother you if people knew?”

“That I shagged a man? No. Were you planning on telling people? Oh, god, don’t go telling people. Imagine all their smug faces and the ‘I told you so’s’ we’d have to endure.”

“Mrs. Hudson would be unbearable, pestering about a wedding date.” Sherlock looked horrified.

“You’re brother asked me if we were going to get married once. The very first time he kidnapped me, in fact.”

“Remind me to nick his credit card the next time he shows his obnoxious face.”

“And we should order room service.”

They giggle like kids planning silly pranks, their heads tucked together. Sherlock put his hand on John’s chest, feeling the structure of it as their laughter trailed off. His gaze alternated between where he was touching and back up to John’s face.

John watched as Sherlock’s eyes danced with amusement and curiosity. When he caught himself leaning forward, he blinked and looked down.

Sherlock paused. “John?”

“It’s odd feeling. Naked in bed together, but we haven’t kissed. I’ve never been that type of guy. Shagging without kissing.”

“You like kissing.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

John could tell in his peripheral vision that Sherlock was studying him. Then he seemed to be getting closer. And closer.

“John?” He could feel Sherlock’s breath on his cheek.

He shut his eyes. Closed the gap.

And it felt good. The tension drained from him. It was like he’d been holding himself in parade rest and now he could finally relax. He slid his arm around Sherlock’s back and pulled him closer. The other man got the hint and tangled his legs with Johns.

He half expected Sherlock to be a shy kisser, but that was clearly not the case. He eagerly responded when John tested opening his mouth. Soon their tongues were sliding together and retreating, back and forth. John couldn’t help but smile at being kissed with such easy enthusiasm. And Sherlock’s hands explored the rest of him the same way.

John rolled back, pulling the other man half on top of him and enjoyed the feeling of his body pressing down on him. He gave in to the urge to push his fingers into Sherlock’s hair and got a hum of approval in response. Sherlock leaned back, looking mischievous, and swooped down to kiss his neck. It was John’s turn to hum pleasantly.

“I’ve never kissed anyone’s neck before,” he murmured next to his ear.

“Feels good. Here, see?” John tilted his head around and returned the gesture.

“Very good. Mmmm.”

Then they were kissing again. Kissing and laughing and rolling about. John wasn’t sure how long they kept at it, but eventually they slowed for a moment. Sherlock’s face hovered over his own. His eyes were bright and he wore a happy grin that John felt compelled to mirror. His hair was in wild disarray. It was like when he’d spend all day moping on the sofa in his pajamas and then suddenly spring up announcing they had a case, a good one, and what are you waiting for John the game is on, oh, it’s Christmas!

“You mad man.” And John had to kiss him again, still smiling against his mouth.

Sherlock’s attention started diverting to exploring John body, examining it. He resembled an overexcited puppy as his hands darted from place to place, never staying in one spot for long. He felt skin, muscle, bone. He used his face and lips to measure texture too. He lifted John’s arms and twisted them this way and that. Then did the same with his legs.

John jumped when a hand cupped his soft cock. “Oi.”

Sherlock snickered and inspected that part of him too. That finished, he impatiently tried to roll him over.

“I should be used to you manhandling me by now,” John grumbled, but relented to being turned and to having his back half given the same treatment. He wasn’t really put out. It felt rather nice, actually. Sherlock’s fingers combed through his hair and then his lips were on the back of his neck. He had a suspicion he was also being sniffed. Typical.

“Have you seen everything now?” John asked once his buttocks had received a short massage.

Sherlock flopped down on top of his back. “I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

“What? Molest me?”

“Catalogue you. Fill in the missing information. There’s only such much you can glean from sight alone. Through clothing.”

“This need of yours to know all that...  would you call it compulsive... or obsessive?”

“Shut up.”

They lay there, enjoying each other’s proximity. He wondered what Sherlock was thinking. Would he start to think about the case again now? Currently John was thinking about the fact that he could feel Sherlock’s genitals resting atop his left thigh. He never expected to know how that felt. Not bad at all, actually.

Then the feeling disappeared as Sherlock got up. “Whatcha doing?”

“I need to urinate. So do you. Me first.”

John shook his head. In fact, he did need a piss.

 

Sherlock was sprawled out back on the bed, face mashed into his pillow, when John came back from his turn with the toilet. He’d half expected him to be back to working the case. Was this Sherlock shagged out? He retook his original position pressed against his friend’s back and pulled a sheet over them haphazardly.

“Is this what sex does to you, John? Makes you succumb to your body’s whim?”

“Sex _is_ your body’s whim, so yeah. I guess all that energy of yours is finally tapped out.”

“I’m supposed to be able to focus on the case now,” he whined.

“You sound like a toddler refusing to take a nap. Just sleep for now. You can go back to work when you wake up.”

Sherlock huffed at that, but he didn’t seem inclined to get up. He rubbed his calf against John’s drowsily and was soon asleep.

 

***

 

It was still dark when John woke, but it wouldn’t be for long. Sherlock was up, back on the case as expected. But he hadn’t bothered getting dressed. John watched him for a minute, smirking at the naked investigator. He felt the bed next to him. Still a bit warm, but barely. Sherlock noticed the movement and looked up.

“Feeling better?” John asked.

“Yes.”

“Any ideas?”

“Several. Don’t worry, I’ll tell you when have something more substantial. Sleep, John. It won’t be long now.”

Sure enough, Sherlock woke him some time later. “John, John! Get up. We need to go out and test my hypothesis.”

The sun was fully up now and Sherlock was freshly showered and dressed by the look of him.  John obligingly stumbled to the bathroom to have his shower, heedless of the eyes that followed his still nude form.


	3. Chapter 3

The case was solved and they were back in London in less than 48 hours.

It was a relief to be back. Well, it was a relief for a few hours. The very next day Sherlock found another case and they were right back to the busy pace of detective work. John wasn’t bothered. It was by no stretch the first time they had worked back to back cases. It was finished in three days with neither of them any worse for wear.

It did have the effect of giving them no time to talk about having slept together. John had wondered on their trip back home if they were going to. Was there even anything to talk about? Sherlock needed relief and John provided it. Granted, it ended up more intimate and less businesslike than he’d intended, but did that matter?

The main reason why John thought it might merit a discussion was that it was Sherlock’s first time. Some people can have strong reactions to that. And Sherlock was Sherlock, so it was hard to predict what he was going to think of anything. He might forget it even happened.

No, John didn’t think it was likely he’d dismiss it so easily. He was just too used to thinking of Sherlock as sexless. All brain and no body. Sherlock himself had promoted this idea, but it wasn’t true at all. Unfortunately, John knew exactly fuck all about how his friend regarded sex - other than as a motive for murder. He did know that Sherlock disdained emotion, but had more of it than he’d ever admit. There was just no telling what that git was thinking.

The decision to talk was taken from him when the next case began too quickly, and by three days later, it felt like it was too late to bring it up. He wasn’t sure why. So they never mentioned it again. He felt a bit guilty about it, like he was being a coward, fearing a bit of awkwardness. But Sherlock seemed fine, so their lives went on as usual.

Well... mostly.

John worked. They went on cases. Sherlock did putrid experiments in the kitchen. John went on dates. Sherlock tried to keep a beehive in their flat. John shouted.

However, Sherlock had definitely not forgotten their sexual encounter. John knew this because he had apparently decided that respecting John’s personal space was unnecessary. You know that bit of distance that most people keep between each other unless they’re in a relationship? Most people have encountered at least one person who is oblivious to it and makes others uncomfortable. Yep, that was Sherlock now. With John anyway. And apparently Sherlock was really not body shy in the slightest. John was treated to the sight of pale skin wandering about the flat more than ever - much to Mrs. Hudson’s annoyance. Then there was the fact that he was being manhandled more and more. And privacy was quickly deteriorating.

‘Come, John, the culprit won’t wait for you to finish tea. I wouldn’t have to put your shoes on for you if you managed a pace faster than an arthritic pensioner.’

‘What does it matter if I come into your bedroom? You can’t possibly be worried about me seeing you naked. What do principles have to do with it? No, _you’re_ being unreasonable. You’re obsessed with antiquated irrational social mores.’

‘Because I need to brush my teeth. Yes, I’m aware you’re in the shower, how is that relevant? Why would I waste time waiting for you to finish? I have to get to Bart’s as soon as possible, I want to experiment on freshly dead brain tissue. I can’t even see you, so if your issue is, as I suspect, actually about being caught wanking, just be quiet and your problem is solved. Of course I’ll still know, but then I always do. Besides which you’ve seen me do it. Oh please, you’re not even actually going to do it in the shower today. You were planning on later tonight in bed. Then what IS the point, John? I would be finished already if you hadn’t decided to be so difficult. You’ve only succeeded in wasting my time and letting the water get cold. Serves you right.’

If it had been any other person, John would have thought it possible they were either consciously or subconsciously showing their attraction and interest in more sex. But this was Sherlock. And really, it just figured. One thing that really rubbed Sherlock the wrong way was the illogic of social protocol.

It was a losing battle, though. Mostly because none of it, in fact, bothered John. Not really. The only reason why he dug in his heels about any of it was that it bloody well pissed him off that Sherlock didn’t respect his wishes. So after John gave him a blistering ‘no means no’ speech, Sherlock finally backed off. A little.

He relented and only barged in on him when the reason was more important than he just didn’t feel like waiting. The problem was he knew very well John wasn’t actually uncomfortable. So, as weeks turned into months, even that courtesy started to fade. John didn’t care enough to keep fighting it.

 

Far more interesting was the day Sherlock kissed him out of the blue.

Sherlock was running John through the clues like usual, using him as a sounding board. John made comments that, also like usual, weren’t particularly clever or relevant. And as it sometimes happens, something he said caused Sherlock’s mind veer off in a new direction, leading to the following exclamation, “John, that’s brilliant!”

Sometimes this was accompanied by being grabbed by the shoulders and congratulated for being so helpful. ‘Conductor of light’ was John’s favorite version of that. However, this time Sherlock grabbed him by the base of his head and kissed him in that moment of exultation. It was a quick kiss, lasting barely a moment. Sherlock was grinning like a lunatic as usual. Then in the next moment his expression turned to one of contrition.

Honestly, the fear in his eyes ruined the moment. And these were among John’s favorite parts of working with his best friend. It might be stupid, but it made him feel like he was more than just a tag along.

“I-I’m sorry,” Sherlock stammered. “That didn’t- I didn’t. It wasn’t meant- You don’t have to worry. I-I’m not trying to- I...”

“Breath a moment.”

“I am breathing!” he snapped.

“I take it you hadn’t planned that.”

“No, I... I don’t know why I did that. I’m not trying to, um...”

“That’s pretty obvious. I’ve seen you chat people up and you’re not this bad at it.”

“...Thank you?”

“Look, I think you just got caught up in the moment and acted on impulse. Happens. People love to celebrate with a kiss. It’s understandable. I am a pretty decent kisser after all.” John smirked.

“Is that right?”

“You would know.”

“I don’t have a lot to compare your technique against.”

“You’ll just have to take my word for it.”

It turned out that was all the permission the man needed. It seemed that Sherlock was indeed very fond of expressing his joy with a quick peck every now and then. John just went with it. Sherlock had always been tactile when he was excited, though the hugging and kissing had previously been exclusive to Mrs. Hudson.

Yes, the hugging was a thing now too. That started sometime after the kissing. Sherlock was apparently learning to behave like a caring human being. Whenever they escaped a dangerous situation, particularly if they had been separated or had had a close call, Sherlock now expressed his relief with a quick squeeze. Surprisingly, it came to him as naturally as most everything else did. John had assumed that Mrs. Hudson was just a special case. It was difficult not to love the sweet woman. Apparently, he was wrong and Sherlock was just as pleased to show affection with anyone he liked. He just didn’t think it was allowed before.

John was well aware how odd their relationship was becoming and how it would look to other people. But his best friend was Sherlock Holmes. Normal could piss off.

 

***

 

Did John think about that night in bed with Sherlock? Of course. Without hesitation. Contrary to Sherlock’s fears, he really didn’t worry about it. It had just never happened before. With a man. He’d never wanted to. It was kind of exciting, actually. He would never admit it to anyone ever - for fear of sounding like a twat - but it kind of made him feel sexier. Like he was less boring and vanilla.

Imagine that. Sherlock made him feel sexy. As if he didn’t have enough hero worship going on.

So John most definitely wanked to the memory of what they’d done together. For the most part, he felt the same about it as he did when he thought about former girlfriends. The main difference was that they were still living together. It was a bit odd, but he didn’t see a reason to feel bad about it. He wondered if Sherlock did the same. He hoped so. Vane of him, he knew that.

After a while, he started to think about what else could have happened that night. How would Sherlock have reacted if John had tried sucking him off instead? He didn’t know if he’d like doing it, but he mostly thought of whether or not Sherlock would like it. And his imagination didn’t stop there. Eventually, he’d worked his way through most of the possibilities.

Jesus, it was a shame Sherlock had never experienced anything else in the wide variety of sex that existed. Far from the ascetic he once believed Sherlock to be, it seemed in reality he was quite the opposite and the only thing holding him back was a lack of social skills. He was probably a natural at sex.

This thought was most prominent during the occasions that Sherlock played his violin. John found himself more fascinated than ever, now that these little concerts took on a new dimension. He wondered about the emotion that seemed to come from him in these times. Sometimes he imagined that some of Sherlock’s more frustrated melodies had to do with sexual longing. It was purely speculation, probably wrong, but that’s what sprang to mind.

 

Other than the increased physical contact Sherlock had started, what took him much longer to notice was that he himself was initiating it too now. Sometimes John was the one to reach for the hug. He’d taken to ruffling Sherlock’s hair as he passed him when he was sitting. He found his hand tended to settle on the back of his neck when they both peered at a laptop. Sherlock seemed to be fine with it, so John just kept letting it happen.

 

***

 

Then one day there was a bit of a mishap. It was bound to happen that Sherlock would make one of his miraculous breakthroughs in front of other people. As luck would have, Lestrade was the person present when it did.

“Oh! Oh, that’s... perfect.”

“Did you think of something?” John asked, recognizing that expression anywhere.

“What is it? What have you got?” Lestrade prompted.

“The mother was never injured. She faked it. She took the secret to the grave. That’s how... Brilliant!” Sherlock exclaimed, his face lighting up. Then he surged forward, grabbed John’s jacket lapels and kissed him.

Approximately one second after he pulled back, John saw the look of realization flash over his features. But whatever other reaction he might have had was a mystery, because he was out the door in a flash. Leaving John to do damage control. Of course.

He gave a long suffering sigh and faced the Detective Inspector. The man’s eyebrows were attempting to reach his hairline and his expression was beginning to change from shocked to amused.

“How long has that been going on then?”

“Look, Greg, it’s... Christ, that’s not what you think it is. Really.”

“Doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to see that wasn’t your first kiss.”

“Well, no. But not- He just does that sometimes. It’s just a kiss. He does the same thing with Mrs. Hudson. You know Sherlock, he’s excitable and he doesn’t much care if kissing your flatmate is weird.”

“Riiiight. Somehow I doubt he’s kissing Mrs. Hudson on the mouth.”

“No, but-.”

“So you’re saying you’ve never shagged?”

“....... ........ It was just the once.”

“And the truth comes out. Why once? I thought if you two finally got around to it, that would be the end of your bachelor days.”

“It was just a one off. As friends.”

“Friends...”

“Yes.”

“And now he snogs you when he’s excited.”

“Greg. It’s not like that.”

“Look, what makes you think he _doesn’t_ want to sleep with you again?”

“I...”

“Have you even talked about it?”

“No, but-“

“Oooh, did he do something? Like something weird that put you off?”

“No! For fuck’s sake, Greg. Why would you say that, like you assume he’s a freak? In fact, he’s actually really good in bed.”

“Alright, so it sounds like maybe you do want another go.”

John threw his hands up in irritation. “There’s no talking to you. I’m going to go find where Sherlock’s gone. Make sure he’s not getting himself arrested for stealing medical records. Just don’t tell anyone about this.”

“You should think about it, John,” Lestrade called out to his retreating back. “Friends nonsense,” he continued to grumble. “Perfect for each other and too stupid to notice. Pillocks.”

 

***

 

Ok, so John hadn’t technically lied when he said Sherlock was good in bed. He just never really got the chance to find out for sure, though he was certain he would be good at sex given the chance. John was more concerned about defending Sherlock’s reputation. Greg was being a complete tosser.

                                   

“Sorry about earlier. In front of Lestrade,” Sherlock mumbled later, after he’d solved the case.

“It’s fine. He’s going to be annoying for the foreseeable future though.” John glanced at him. He looked unsettled. “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“You were expecting me to be angry, weren’t you?”

“But you were angry. The next time I saw you, you were very clearly angry.”

“Not at you. I told you, I’m not worried to be seen with a man. I was still a little worked up on account of Greg acting like a giant knob.”

“Did he ask when you’ll pop the question? Something else?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Then tell me.”

“Leave it.”

“I’ll get it out of you or him one way or another. I always do.”

“God, alright. He asked if the reason we aren’t at it like rabbits is because you’re... weird in bed.”

“Oh.”

“And of course, I couldn’t just let him say something like that. He was out of order. So I- uh. I told him you were good in bed.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. He opened his mouth to speak a couple of times before saying, “I’m not sure where to even start with that.”

“Sorry.”

“You told him we’ve had sex...”

“Yes, sorry. I know it’s not my place to tell people and we said we wouldn't, but he asked. He’s a detective and I’m not exactly skilled at lying.”

“And so you proceed to LIE in order to... defend my honor?”

“Apparently I’m a better liar when I’m hacked off. Besides, it wasn’t actually lying.”

“You made an unsubstantiated claim.”

“An educated guess.”

“For all you know, I might actually be a sexual deviant.”

John studied him. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to trick me into saying nice things about you or if you’re bragging.”

“Could be both.”

“You’re not pissed off Greg knows?”

“Did you tell him the circumstances leading up to the ‘friendly hand job’?”

“God, no.”

“Then it’s fine. Besides, I have to take half of the blame for him finding out. I kissed you in front of him.”

“True.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Hm? Stop what?”

“Kissing you.”

“Oh. Um. No, it’s fine. Just don’t let it get caught on camera. It’ll be all over the news and then we’ll have to stage a public breakup before anyone will date me again.”

“I don’t know. I’m a tough act to follow. They still might be intimidated.”

“Pompous peacock.”

 

***

 

Sherlock had been spending the last several days almost exclusively away from their flat. He said he was running some experiment on social network patterns. Real life ones, not online. When John asked about it, the answer was largely lost on him other than gleaning that it involved going undercover (Sherlock’s term for dress up), interacting with various people, and planting evidence. At that point he had a hunch that it probably wasn’t entirely legal and decided he’d rather not know.

But that had left John without much to do. So he’d gone out. For a little me time. Ok, he went out to meet women.

And he succeeded quite nicely if his current activities were anything to go by. He’d brought her back to the flat and they were currently engaged in a bit of savage snogging up against the wall. And this woman kissed like she wanted to wreck him. He thought they might not even make it up the stairs to his bedroom with the way she rubbed against him. Not a moment too soon either. He’d started to forget the feel of anything besides his own hand. Speaking of hands, hers boldly palmed him through his trousers.

“John, do we have anything in?” Sherlock’s voice boomed from downstairs. “Molly says I look ‘peaky’. Insists I need food. Just because I can’t remember the last time I ate. And she wants you to text her as proof or she won’t let me... oh...”

The fact that they’d had plenty of time to pull apart and compost themselves before he actually saw them would have made the situation a bit less embarrassing IF it weren’t Sherlock. John saw him read the entire scene, probably starting before he’d even left the flat that evening.

“Hi, um... Is this your flatmate?” the woman asked, clearly implying ‘the one you said wouldn’t be home?’.

“Yeah, sorry. Um, this is Sherlock.”

“Hello...” Sherlock greeted her. “I um...”

“Sherlock? Like Sherlock Holmes? The detective?.”

“That’s the one.”

She looked at him in horror.

“I... Don’t mind me.” He winced a bit as his attempt at being polite came out awkward.

“But... you’re famous.”

“A bit.”

“Wait, I heard that you two were...”

“No. No, no. No. I’ll just...” Sherlock coughed and disappeared into his bedroom.

She turned to John. “Oh my god. You didn’t tell me you live with Sherlock Holmes!” she hissed at him.

“I didn’t think he’d be here,” he whispered back.

“Is it true he knows everything about you by just looking at you?”

“...Yeah.”

“Shit.”

“Listen, I’m sorry. He’s got the worst timing in the universe, but you don’t-“

“I think it’s best I just leave.”

“I- well I, I guess. I mean, if that’s what you want. But really, you could stay. It’s fine.” John was crying inside. He’d been so close and she smelled so good.

“I just can’t. Not with him... around. He’d just know too much.”

He heaved a great sigh, nodding. He showed her to the door, promising no hard feelings. Sherlock was out in the sitting room when he came back upstairs. John ungracefully dropped to the sofa in resignation and didn’t bother to hide it when he adjusted his still hopeful erection.

“So will we be adding this to the long list of dates I’ve ruined for you?”

“Nah. I assumed you’d be gone like you have been lately, so I chanced it bringing her here. No dice.”

“You’re frustrated.”

“What gave it away?” John tilted his head back glumly and closed his eyes, already picturing the dejected wank he’d being having later.

“I... could do you a favor.”

“I don’t have the heart to go out again tonight, even with your help.”

“No. I mean a favor... like the one you did for me.”

John’s eyes popped open. Sherlock was looming in the center of the room waiting for his response.

“A favor like... at the hotel?”

“I never did get to reciprocate,” he reminded John cheerfully, though it was tinted with a bit of false nonchalance. His hands were clasped behind his back, one of his tells. Nervous, though not overly so. “And I inadvertently caused tonight’s misfortune. I could perhaps lessen the disappointment.”

“Right.”

“Though I thought I could branch out to another activity. Would you object to a- ah... friendly blow job?”

“A... you want to...”

“I rather do.”

“... as in right now?”

“Well, before your lose your... mood.”

“Yeah... yeah, I think... I think I’m saying yes. To that. Yes.”

Sherlock grinned and sprang into action. He manhandled John to recline sideways on the sofa and impatiently started on the flies of his jeans.

“That’ll do, Sherlock. I can do that bit.”

“Well, then do it!”

John chuckled and swiftly pulled his jeans and pants down far enough that his cock was in full view, showing himself off a bit. He was gratified when Sherlock deliberately licked his lips and smirked. John grinned back before turning a bit serious.

“Um, we should get a condom. Mine are upstairs... I should just...”

“I know you haven’t engaged in any disease transmitting behavior since the last time you got tested.”

“And how would you know?”

“Are you really asking that?”

“Point taken. And you?”

“And I... I... well, I would never endanger you... but given my history... I... I’ll go fetch the condoms....”

“Sherlock.”

“Hm?”

“You got tested about two months ago. You would know if there’s a reason to believe you might have been exposed to something since then. Would you risk infecting me if you thought it were possible?”

“No.”

“I trust you as a scientist to know what that means. And... I really want to feel your mouth on me.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened at his declaration and John might have been imagining it, but he thought he saw definite lust on Sherlock’s face. And he could swear his voice got deeper as he said, “Alright. I might be new to this, but it can’t be too complicated.” He settled himself atop John’s legs. “Just be patient and give me a few minutes to experiment. Don’t be a difficult subject now.”

John was going to comment on how flirty that sounded, but was derailed by the feel of Sherlock’s tongue dragging along his shaft. And he indeed experimented on John with various techniques, utilizing his hands and lips in addition to his tongue. He tested the variation in speed, pressure, suction. He tested the sensitivity of each section of skin from the tip of his glans to underneath his balls, rubbing his prostate from the outside.

It was unlike any blow job he’d ever received. It was exciting, being explored this way. And, oh Christ, a hot mouth sliding nearly all the way to the base of his cock was marvelous. Sherlock didn’t quite choke, but it was a near thing. Always testing limits, that one. So he gripped the base with his hand instead as he worked his mouth over the rest. And, as expected, Sherlock learnt quickly what got the best responses and he settled into a rhythm.

John played with the curls at the nape of Sherlock’s neck and murmured encouragements. He hummed back pleasantly as he suckled at the tip for a moment before dipping down again. His eyes were closed in concentration. The longer his mouth was on him, the more John’s focus narrowed to just the delicious feeling on his aroused cock and the growing urge to spill inside that soft mouth. Oh, did he want to.

But he wouldn’t be so inconsiderate to his best friend. “Oh, fuck fuuuuuh, mmmm, Sherlo... Sherlock, not long now. You might, might wanna-“

His friend pulled up a bit, but kept his mouth wrapped tight. His other hand slid up to rub his balls. The man groaned around his glans massaging it with his tongue as he sucked.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” His orgasm slammed hard like a freight train.

He opened his eyes after the pulses faded away to find Sherlock’s head up and eyes open, his hand still gently cupping him. Sherlock met John’s gaze, smiling happily and looking proud of his accomplishment. John reached out and rubbed his thumb over Sherlock’s rosy lips. “Clever lad. Bloody gorgeous that.”

Sherlock preened. He tucked John’s cock back into his pants and sat up. He winced and adjusted himself, calling John’s attention to the fact that his friend was aroused now. Sherlock smiled ruefully.

“I’ll just... go to...” He gestured vaguely towards his bedroom.

John sat up quickly and stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Or you could stay.”

“...Um... what...”

“I mean...” John moved his hand deliberately towards Sherlock’s flies, going slow enough that Sherlock knew his intention. “If you’d prefer I, um, get you off... I could. I mean I’d like to.”

Eyes wide, Sherlock nodded his agreement.

John guided him to lie back on the sofa and moved to hover over him before he pulled out his friend’s erection. It was as red as he remembered. The sensation of it in his hand was now a bit familiar, though it was a new angle. And with their faces inches apart, this time he could see Sherlock’s face while he touched him.

He looked surprised and a little tense, as if he didn’t have any idea how he’d gotten to be in this situation. His eyes were darting from his cock to John’s face, then flitting away in random directions as if uncertain where he was supposed to look. Finally he closed his eyes.

Abruptly John stood up and those eyes snapped back open. “It’ll be better with lube. I need to go get some. And you might want to take off that posh shirt unless you want to explain to the dry cleaners what happened.”

Sherlock’s moment of alarm passed. “As if they’ve never cleaned ejaculate before,” he scoffed.

“Well, save them the hassle,” John replied as he hurried to fetch the lube.

When he returned with the bottle, Sherlock was bare chested with his trousers below his hips and looking ridiculously appealing despite his fidgeting. John retook his position over him and immediately fisted his cock with his now slick hand.

“Mmm-uhn.”

“That’s better.”

He suspected Sherlock would prefer to just get down to the main event going by the desperate little noises he was making, so he didn’t stop for any foreplay. He pumped him firmly, watching his expressive face. His eyes were shut tight and he was biting his lip, and John didn’t like how anxious he still seemed. Last time they hadn’t been facing each other and he suspected Sherlock was uncomfortable being watched, no matter that it was a fantasy of his. In the fantasy world you could pretend to you were confidant. So John leant down for a kiss, getting a gasp in return. A moment later Sherlock kissed him back. And unlike all of their kisses for the past months, it wasn’t chaste at all. Sherlock’s tension eased away as their tongues slid together.

John kissed and nipped along his neck. “That’s it, just like that,” he murmured against his skin and was pleased to hear moans in return. They continued on like that, John giving his attention to lips and skin until he finally decided it would be a shame to waste his access to Sherlock’s naked torso. The angle was a little awkward but he kissed his way down and found it impossible to keep his mouth away from the two nipples tempting him.

Sherlock let out a high whine as he suckled at one and then the other. His breathing ratcheted up. “Joh-Joh-Joh-fu-fu-mmmmmm.”

John flicked his tongue over the nubs and moments later Sherlock sobbed, “Oh, god, Jaawwwnn.” He tensed and his cock throbbed as he spilled all over his chest. John looked up in time to see his friend’s face as his pleasure peaked. He enjoyed the sight, thinking ruefully in the back of his mind how strange it was that he’d always considered this man sexless.

Sherlock opened his eyes as his shudders dissipated. He watched John with a lazy expression and appeared relaxed and content. His arms were draped loosely around John’s shoulders and he didn’t know when that had happened. He gave in to the impulse to kiss him and Sherlock happily responded in kind.

“I suppose an ‘I told you so’ is in order.”

“Hm? What do you mean?” John replied, bemused.

“I believe I’ve complained at length about your impulses to go out and find women with which to have sex. I now have first hand experience of why sex is so appealing.”

“Does that mean you’ll stop cock blocking me?”

“Doubtful. It’s still most inconvenient when you’re off getting off while there’s work to be done.”

“Git.”

 

***

 

A weak or so later Greg invited John to a pub night, to which he readily agreed. He thought it was best for his sanity to do normal things away from Sherlock on occasion, to keep some perspective. So they drank and chatted and did miserably at a pub quiz. Greg inquired about how Sherlock was doing, so John regaled him with his latest shenanigans.

“And then he pulled the rabbit out of the box like the most smug magician you’ve ever seen. I thought the woman eyes would pop right out of her skull.”

Greg roared with laughter. “Can you picture him in a big billowing purple cape? I’d pay to see that.”

“You know I bet he bloody knows how to do magic tricks too. I mean he’s great at pickpocketing. His hands are nimble enough.”

“Are they now...” Greg asked, leaning heavily into the innuendo.

John chucked a rolled up napkin at his face.

“Seriously, you ever decide to talk to him about that? Find out what he thinks about you two?”

John shifted uncomfortably. Greg nudged him with his shoulder.

“Uh, well...”

“He blushes!”

“No, I don’t.”

“So what did he say?”

John sighed. “Nothing. We didn’t talk...”

“Then why are you looking so bloody bashful, eh? If you didn’t talk then what... oh.... really? Again?”

“Christ, I have no poker face.”

“Well, we all knew it was inevitable.”

“That’s what Mrs. Hudson said.”

“Oh, so you told her. Like properly announced it?”

“No, she heard us. Baked celebratory scones the next day, looking pleased as can be. Why are you all so determined to shove us together?”

“I reckon you shoved yourselves together,” Greg snickered.

“Ha bloody ha. Cheers.”

“Are you really saying you’re not a couple?”

“Why would we be?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Greg bellowed out sarcastically.

“Friends have sex sometimes. My life isn’t a bloody rom com.”

“Come off it, John. You’re not just casual friends who are having casual sex now. You’re joined at the hip. You live in each other’s pockets, to be honest. You share a flat, you work together, you go to dinner together... He kisses you when the mood strikes him and quite frankly you two have zero personal space boundaries. And, god, those soppy looks you give each other have gotten worse.”

“We don’t do that.”

“You two would go to the ends of the Earth for each other. You can’t say you don’t love him.”

“Not like that.”

“Why not? Because he’s a man? Because if that’s it, fuck’s sake John, I think I might actually become violent with you.”

“No, of course not. Jesus, does everyone think I’m in the closet?”

“Half of the yarders think that’s the reason you two aren’t together, yeah. The other half think you’re secretly shagging. A few think Sherlock’s asexual.”

“See, that’s what I thought! Ish. Kinda. Couldn’t tell at all to be honest.”

“I personally always figured he was gay,” Greg announced smugly.

“Well, he’s undecided actually..... Oh, shit. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why?”

“It’s his business, not something I should be telling people. Bloody buggering fuck, I’ve been drinking and... shit.”

“Don’t get your knickers in twist. I promise I won’t tell anybody.”

“Ta.”

They sat there in silence for a few minutes before Greg continued in a gentler tone. “You know... Sherlock looks at you like you hung the moon. What if... what if he’s trying to hint he’s interested in a relationship?”

John snorted. “Except I know he’s not. He’s made that clear, in fact.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he talks about sentiment like it’s some kind of disease. A weakness. He hates it when people try to flirt with him. One time, when we first met, he thought I was trying to do. He told me he was married to his work and didn’t want that sort of thing. So you see, I know that’s not on the table.”

Greg stared thoughtfully into his pint for a while.

“You know, John, people change. In the years I knew him before you came along, he was always the same. Aloof, callous, derisive. In fact, I only think he would have become more isolated and spiteful if things had stayed the same. The change in him after he met you... you can’t know. He’s... thawed. Willing to interact with us mere mortals. He’s even considerate every now and then. Most of all, he’s happier. He’s affectionate even. We both know the sociopath routine is a load of shit. He pretends sentiment is beneath him, but it comes as natural as breathing when it comes to you. He’d just never admit it. Don’t let him fool you with his bullshit. Just... don’t dismiss the possibility.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time, sorry.

John didn’t exactly ignore Greg’s advice. It wasn’t as if he were actively putting their conversation out of his mind. But neither did he make an effort to sit down and have a good think about it. He didn’t see the point. Didn’t see why it was so important to Greg anyway. John was satisfied with his life with Sherlock. Things were comfortable. Exciting. Peaceful in the chaos in that way John craved. He was happy being what they were and didn’t want to worry what other people expected them to be.

Sherlock was always telling him he worried too much about what other people thought anyway. He was right.

 

The Holmes brothers were at each other again. Yes... shocking. Mycroft was demanding that Sherlock agree to meet up with their parents who would be visiting London in a few days. John was trying to hide his curiosity about who could possibly have raised these alien men in his sitting room.

Sherlock was being predictably contrary and obstinate. More than that, he seemed to be doing an unusually spectacular job at pushing the man’s buttons and brother dear looked to be contemplating violence.

“You don’t have a single reason why you can’t see them, Sherlock.”

“I don’t have the patience for the tedium of their prying and prodding and carrying on.”

“They want to know how you’ve been doing. If you could stop being a selfish child for a single second, you might appreciate the two people who actually care about you. It’s not torture, Sherlock. It’s a family visit.”

“It’s a spot inspection of my life!” he snapped back. “They want to stick their noses in just like you.”

“So what then? Do you plan to avoid them indefinitely for fear they might ask you a single question.”

“I’ll see them when I have the time. I won’t be ambushed like this.”

“You have plenty of time,” Mycroft said, exasperation levels peaking.

“And how would you know unless you’ve been keeping tabs on me like usual. Butting in where you’re not wanted. You all think you have the right to know every move I make-“

“Dear lord, they’re going to find out that you’re having sex with John sooner or later. Why you can’t act like a grown man about it instead of a sulking adolescent is beyond me.”

Sherlock’s glare held death in it.

John couldn’t stay out of it anymore. “I think you should leave now, Mycroft.”

He glanced at John frowning. “This is hardly-“

“No. Really. Just leave.” His tone was almost gentle, but he left no doubt that he was serious. He moved to stand next to Sherlock and his hand rose to rub the small of his back soothingly.

Mycroft’s expression of supreme frustration flickered for the barest of moments as he absorbed seeing Sherlock allowing such intimacy. He scowled and finally he left them in peace.

The tension didn’t leave Sherlock’s body “Are you ok?” John asked him. He didn’t answer. Instead he stared angrily into space. “Was he right? Is that why you don’t want to see them.” Again no answer. John stepped around to bring Sherlock into a loose hug and that finally got some response. The other man automatically moved his arms to reciprocate. “Will your parents have a problem with me?”

Sherlock sighed. “Mummy will see it on me, especially if she sees you as well. And then the interrogation will start. They’re already intensely curious about you since they found your blog. They’ll want to know every detail of our ‘relationship’. They’ll be so excited that their boy is finally acting like a fully functional human being. They’ll expound upon how hard it is for them to worry about me being alone, and how happy they are that you’re here to save me from myself. They’ll want to know how we met, and anniversary dates, and how I managed to catch a respectable doctor. They won’t understand. They won’t want to. They’ll want it all to fit in a neat box.”

John continued to rub his back, hoping to ease some of his distress. “I know what you mean. Lestrade is kind of acting the same way. Pushing me, us, to be like everyone expects. But it’s not their bloody business. We aren’t accountable to anyone but ourselves. We’re fine without their interference.”

“I was worried this would... put you off. Make you stop... I mean, I’m not oblivious, you know. I know this isn’t how normal friends behave. It’s... it’s nonstandard...”

“Hey, stop right there. I’m tired of giving a crap what people think. No more. I’m done worrying. I like how we are. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Sherlock finally relaxed in the embrace and brought their foreheads together. “Still, it might be hilarious to see the horror on my parents’ faces if I told them that our tale of domestic bliss began the day you walked in on me masturbating on the settee.”

They giggled together and much of the tension from earlier dissipated. “Come on. You said you wanted my help with that mad experiment you came up with. Now, are you actually certain it’s not dangerous?”

“99.2% certain.”

 

***

 

In the end, Sherlock did find himself visiting his parents after all. He said he managed to emerge from it without his mother noticing anything about their private business, with no small effort on his part to conceal any evidence. John spent a few weeks being annoyed with the world in general. When they were alone, everything was fine. No confusion, no expectations, just them being them. But outside observers were more hassle than they were worth, so they kept it all to themselves. Which doubly irritated him. Sherlock pointed out that John should be used to conforming to social customs, so they rowed about the difference between nonconformity and being a cock.

The row turned into a wrestling match on the sitting room rug, which ended with Sherlock’s energy dwindling into a large yawn. And so he decided settle down onto John’s chest for a nap. Yes, he actually did that.

“We were just having a fight a minute ago.”

“That was then. You’re very comfortable.”

“This is what happens when you exhaust yourself. What if we’d been in the middle of chasing a criminal? I’m not staying here on the hard floor while you snore in my ear.”

“Mmm.”

“I mean it, Sherlock.” John jabbed him in the ribs, eliciting a grunting whine. “Get off.”

“Fiiine,” Sherlock drawled dramatically and hoisted himself to his feet. He tugged John up too, but didn’t let go of his wrist. He towed John towards his bedroom, eyes already half shut.

“Am I your stuffie now? Does Sherlock need a cuddle?”

“Mmm.”

“It’s only nine. I’m not tired. And I’m still angry.”

Sherlock yawned again.

“Fine, but only if you promise to sleep for a decent number of hours.”

“Mmhm.” Sherlock nudged him to the bed and stripped off every stitch of his own clothing.

“A bit rude, don’t you think. You could have kept your pants.”

“I always sleep naked. Pajamas are for the other rooms.”

“Pajamas are for sleeping.”

“Who made up that rule? Dumb.”

“Well, I’m keeping on my pants.”

Sherlock shrugged, already settling under his sheets. John was promptly positioned onto his back the moment he joined him. Sherlock reclaimed his previous position on his chest. The feeling of each other’s warm skin was somewhat familiar now. They shifted until they were comfortable and Sherlock was unconscious in moments.

“Nutter.” John smiled.

 

 

Sherlock slept until the morning’s first light assaulted his eyes. The two of them had shifted in the night and John was now holding him from behind. It called to mind the first time John had touched him naked like this. In fact... almost exactly like this. He could feel John’s morning erection against his arse. Well, now... that was stimulating. He felt his cock start to thicken and he chuckled at his own body.

“Why’re you laughing,” John slurred disgruntledly.

“Nothing.”

John grunted, his eyes still firmly shut against the waking world.

“I’m going to have a shower. I’m hungry. You hungry? We have anything? Anything’ll do,” Sherlock rattled off as he headed into the bathroom.

He cleaned his teeth and washed himself briskly and efficiently, but his erection only became more insistent. A shot of cold water didn’t do much to counter the effects of his own thoughts. Thoughts that he could not seem to steer away from John’s touch.

No matter. It was easily dealt with. He was fully ready for a quick self-pleasure session as he re-entered his bedroom. However, it transpired that John was still there, sitting on the side of his bed, obviously working up the will power to get up.

“Oh.” Sherlock stopped in his tracks. His penis jutted out from his body, hairless as usual, and he stood there in full view with his towel still raised to his hair.

John looked up, registering the state of his friend’s body, then blinked owlishly.

“I thought you’d be making breakfast,” Sherlock complained accusingly.

“I’m not your man servant, you dick.”

They stared for a moment before childishly giggling at his use of the word dick while one was so prominently on display. “Have fun in the shower, did you?”

“You know how I am. My mind can run away with me.”

John licked his lips unconsciously as his eyes darted around Sherlock’s body. Sherlock flushed.

“You must have some interesting scenarios stored away in that mind palace of yours.” John smirked.

“Possibly.”

“Would you like some more real life experience?”

“I... what did you have in mind?” He fidgeted, still feeling on display.

“You’ve never felt anyone’s mouth on your cock.”

“N-no.” His voice caught.

“Come here?”

Sherlock complied and John reached out to pull him gently to the bed. He settled him on his back, laid his towel to the side, and lent over him. “This ok?”

“Yes,” he breathed out. He could feel John’s half-mast morning stiffy was still present and pressing into his hip now.

John bent his head to kiss his friend’s cheek, then again closer to his ear, and then nuzzled into his neck. He smoothed his hand down his chest as he rubbed his lips here and there. Sherlock grasped his head and brought their lips together just as John’s hand slid down the grasp his smooth balls. “Mmmf.”

John smiled. “Do you always shave here?” he murmured as his pressed small kisses around the man’s face.

“Usually.”

“Does it feel good?” he asked as he stroked the soft skin.

“Yes, mmm, I like the sensation better.”

John shuffled down to settle between Sherlock’s legs. “I wonder how my mouth would feel here then.” And he tenderly sucked and licked at first one testicle and then the other.

“Oh.. my.. fuuuuu...” Sherlock breathed in stuttering quick tempo. He clenched his fingers into the bedsheets and reveled in the new sensation between his legs.

John worked his way up the shaft, continuing to lick and suck and run his lips all over the length of him. Sherlock gripped one of John’s wrists and John turned it in his grasp to hold his hand. “Still doing ok?”

“I never realized how erotic that would feel,” he huffed out. “You’re not going to stop, are you?”

“Not at all.” He teased the frenulum with his tongue for a few moments, then popped the head into the O of his lips.

“Ohhhhngh.”

John sucked him like a lolly, taking his time to map the area with his tongue. Sherlock was getting desperate and starting to keen. He finally took pity on him and slid down to engulf his cock in soft wet heat.

“Ahhhh!”

He could only go about half way as he bobbed slowly. After a minute, he shifted to try to wrap his hand around the base, but he stopped when Sherlock’s whole body tensed with slight tremors. He pulled up just as the first pulse of semen hit his tongue. Wanting it to be good for his friend, he didn’t let go and suckled the head gently as Sherlock cried out his pleasure.

When he finally quieted, John gently let him go and tried to discreetly spit out the semen into the nearby towel. Of course Sherlock noticed.

“Sorry,” he said ruefully. He swallowed and coughed, sounding a bit hoarse from screaming. “I don’t seem to be able to last very long. Still, I wasn’t expecting it so soon again. It just... happened.”

Seeing the discouraged look starting to form on Sherlock’s face, and he crawled up and pulled him over into his arms. “Don’t be daft. You barely just started. It’s bound to be like that at first.” He ghosted his fingers up and down Sherlock’s spine for a while before continuing, “Don’t worry about it. As long as you liked it, it’s all good. Did you? Like it, I mean. Mm, that sounds insecure of me. But... well, if you didn’t like it, you should tell me. I don’t want to have the wrong idea... Sherlock? Hey. Sherlock.”

The man’s eyes were closed and he wasn’t responding. “You have got to be joking. Sherlock. Now’s not the time be disappearing into your palace.” He shifted enough to get a hand between them and tweaked one of the idiot’s nipples.

“Ahhhouch! What- ow. John?”

“There he is. For future reference, checking out post coitus is not polite, Sherlock. If I didn’t know what you look like while you’re in your stupid mind palace, I might have thought you fell asleep on me. Though I supposed it would have been worse if it had been mid coitus. What was so important in there anyway?”

“I was cross referencing the oral sex techniques I have used on you with what I just experienced. In order to better understand how to cause the sensation I’m intending and to predict your response.”

“You’re studying how to give better head?”

Sherlock flushed and huffed. “If we must simplify.”

“For me?”

“Who else?” He looked confused.

John smiled at him affectionately. “But did you have to do your analysis just now?”

“Wouldn’t it be most effective to make the improvements to my techniques before I employ them again rather than after?”

“Hm? Wha... oh. Well...”

“If you’re willing.” Sherlock’s grin slowly grew.

“You devil. Go on then, genius. Show off for me.”

 

 

***

 

 

It was starting to be somewhat difficult to hide their developing intimacy in public.

At home the frequency of touching was increasing. And also decreasingly deliberate. Without thinking about it, they reached out to touch most times they came within arm’s reach. John’s fingers combed through Sherlock’s hair for a caress instead of a quick ruffle. There were kisses on the cheek for hellos and goodbyes, kisses on the forehead for goodnights and I’m sorrys. Hugs became slower and with more body contact.

Sherlock could deduce when John was in the mood for sex and would let a kiss linger longer than is chaste in order to hint that he was interested being his partner for the night - or day as it happened. John found Sherlock’s nervous but eager approach to new sexual acts endearing. And arousing. He gladly went along with exploring this part of his friend - and yes, his stamina did increase.

It all became so second nature that they found it harder to remember not to reach out and touch when there were eyes to witness them. And people were starting to whisper even more. Angelo beamed at them, putting a candle on the table every time they came in. Lestrade rolled his eyes at them. People assumed they were together more than ever. John supposed there must be something in their body language’. It was inconvenient, but understandable.

John’s charm still managed to turn a few heads though. And one day he found himself being chatted up by a saucy woman and thoroughly enjoying it. She was fun, interesting to talk with, and made no secret that she was interested in him. He flirted back happily while Sherlock was off investigating something that he would no doubt reveal later for dramatic effect. And when the detective returned, demanding his attention, John gave the woman (Ava) his number. No doubt a bold woman like her wouldn’t think twice about calling if she wanted to see him again.

Sherlock predictably made the usual complaints. ‘There are more important matters.’ ‘She’s slept with many people, you know.’ ‘I need you available. Your pedestrian job takes up enough of your time as it is.’ And a few new ones. ‘I can provide you with sex. I don’t see why she’s necessary.’ ‘And I’m more efficient. I don’t need to be wined and dined in an archaic mating ritual.’

John brushed them aside, used to his sulky comments by now. ‘It’s important to me.’ ‘I’ve slept with my fair share too.’ ‘You’re the one married to your work, not me.’ ‘Necessary, no. Desirable, yes.’ ‘I actually like my archaic mating rituals, with the chatting and laughing and good company. Don’t tell me you don’t like being wined and dined or I’ll tell Angelo how little you appreciate him.’

When Ava called the next day, John readily agreed to meet her again. Sherlock teased him about his artificial pheromones - ‘It’s cologne, Sherlock’ - and his special date shoes. He actually refused to let him go out in the shirt he’d chosen and practically frog marched him back upstairs to change into something tolerable. ‘She won’t appreciate you looking like a geology teacher, did you not see the cut of her skirt? If you’re going to commit to this waste of time, at least make an effort, for god’s sake, or you won’t even get sex out of it.’ John had snapped back that not everyone was a posh git who fancies himself a fashion expert. And so he left an overgrown pouting child detective to his experiments - ‘The case hinges on it, John’ - and set out, looking forward to a pleasant date.

And a pleasant date it was. Conversation flowed easily and she charmed him. She’d heard of him and wanted to hear about interesting cases he’d worked on with Sherlock. He was happy to oblige. She was confidant and never seemed annoyed with the obvious fact that he spent a lot of time with his flatmate.

That was a huge plus in her favor, in fact. He was so busy having a nice time that it took far longer than it should have for something important to occur to him. He liked her. No, that wasn’t the revelation. But he liked this woman. And he didn’t get the vibe that she was purely interested in one night of lust. He thought they were really hitting it off. Their date wasn’t even quite finished and he was already looking forward to another one. And then presumably there would be another one after that. And definitely sex soon, though probably not tonight. All that possible future was running happily in the back of his mind.

But... if it did happen... What about Sherlock?

How could he possibly explain that to this woman if they started a relationship? What would he say? ‘Yes, my flatmate and I shag sometimes, but we’re just friends.’ So far Ava wasn’t threatened by Sherlock’s prominent place in his life, but he doubted she’d be happy he was sleeping with someone else. They hadn’t gotten around to discussing their views on open relationships, but the probabilities were not good.

So he’d have to dial it back with Sherlock. No more sex. No more drunken discussions about sexual fantasies. And no kissing either. Come to think of it, she probably wouldn’t appreciate them cuddling on the settee. Or the expert and decidedly not platonic massages. Or really any of the other too intimate touching they do on a daily basis.

He suddenly felt very ill.

He didn’t want to stop. He couldn’t even stomach the mere thought of stopping. That was unexpected. That kind of attachment to a friend isn’t exactly something he’d navigated before. It hadn’t occurred to him he wouldn’t be able to keep it.

If he had to choose one or the other, which would he... He imagined having Ava... and the thrill of a possible future with this vibrant woman paled against his emotional recoil at the thought of losing the closeness in his friendship with Sherlock.

Ava noticed his distraction and asked if there was something wrong. He snapped back to the moment and assured her everything was fine. He focused on her and determined he would take the time to examine the state of things later.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to break up the last chapter into two because my beta has a life. Hopefully the last half will be finished soon. 
> 
> Here comes the emotions part. No sex this go round.

They set another date in just under a week from their first one. Meanwhile John spent much of his free time thinking things over. Sherlock could tell something was up and John could see his uncertainty about it. But for once, he wasn’t pressing for information.

They finished the last case. At home, they touched each other easily as always. But now each of those touches was accompanied with the thought, ‘This won’t be allowed.’ And he was startled by how often it happened.

After a couple of days, Sherlock started getting anxious. Perhaps he had come to the same conclusion that John had done? Or maybe he was just reacting to John’s strange behavior.

It was clear to him now that he found ending his intimacy with Sherlock so distressing that he could hardly seriously entertain the idea of it without panicking. And where did that leave him? Could he never have a girlfriend? A relationship? Only with people open to this sort of thing, he supposed, but how many of them existed? How likely would that be to work out? Christ, was he doomed to be alone for the rest of his life if he stayed with Sherlock?

And how would Sherlock feel about this? Would he even care? He’d seemed worried about it before. A bit anyway. What if he did care? What if separation would hurt him too? John’s stomach turned at thinking about hurting his friend. Wait, would Sherlock possibly be averse to continuing how they’d been if John were sleeping with a girlfriend? He didn’t seem to be the type for sexual jealousy. Jealous of his time, most definitely, but... It was all so confusing with the ifs and maybes. Fuck, how did everything get so complicated?

Ok, so if he chooses Sherlock... then what? Would he want John around indefinitely? He had no idea how long Sherlock would be interested in keeping things the way they were. He might get bored.

Sherlock might decide that dating isn’t such a bad idea and then want John to back off. Oh shit. John tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. Suddenly he felt like a pathetic cast off. Could it be as easy as shrugging off a coat for Sherlock?

He just didn’t know.

 

Another two days of mulling the whole situation over and several headaches later, Sherlock had had enough of it.

“John,” he said sternly, redirecting his attention from his laptop. “You have been behaving strangely since... four days ago. I demand to know what is happening.” He punctuated it with a haughty nod, but John could see fear creeping through the cracks.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He still wasn’t sure how to approach this, but clearly they needed some communication here. He suspected Sherlock was going to say ‘since your date’, but changed it. Perhaps he was worried about how it would affect them after all.

“Sherlock.... Do you like how... I mean like that... I mean... like our, um... how did you say it? Nonstandard friendship?”

“Was there a question in all of that?”

“Sherlock...”

“I’m not sure what you’re asking.” He swallowed.

“All this, what we do. The stuff we keep from everyone. From your parents. Do you like it? I mean, obviously you would do it only if you liked it, but I mean... Sorry, talking seems to be a problem at the moment.”

“It is preferable to before.... Do you like it?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. But that’s not... So... hypothetically, if we suddenly went back to how things were before... I mean your preference is how things are now, but would it be... disappointing or upsetting to go back?”

“I see. You cannot continue as we’ve been doing while also having a romantic relationship.” John could see him shutting down, his face becoming a blank slate. “I am not so fragile that I’ll go into histrionics over a sudden lack of sexual activity. I managed most of my life without, I think I’ll-“

“Sherlock, stop. Don’t do that.” He stood and moved to stand in front of the other man, putting one hand on the side of his jaw and the other on his arm. “Can we please really talk about this?” He rubbed at the edge of his soft curls. “Please. I can tell you at least aren’t ambivalent about it. I wasn’t even sure about that until right now. It’s just hard to know what you’re thinking and you’re always so touchy about sentiment.”

Sherlock studied him, eyes narrowing. “Would it upset you? To stop.”

“Frankly, yes. Does that bother you? That I’m... attached, I guess.”

“No.”

“Ok. Good. That’s good. Um, how would you... feel about... stopping.”

“... I... don’t want to.” Sherlock’s voice sounded less solid than usual.

“Work with me here. On a scale of one to ten, how opposed are you?”

“.... .... eight maybe.”

John blinked. _Oh?_ “Can you give me an example of something you’re opposed to that rates a ten?”

“Developing Alzheimer’s. You dying.”

“That’s, um. I think I’d be at an eight too. About stopping.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“But...”

“Hm? Oh. Um. Ava. Yeah, she probably wouldn’t be happy about all this. Not statistically likely.”

“By my estimation a virtual statistical zero. She is steadfastly monogamous, though not adverse to going through partners like socks.”

“And you? Are you opposed to me sleeping with other people?”

“Am I the jealous type, you mean? Will it hurt my feelings?” Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Mocking me isn’t helping. It’s not stupid to care about your feelings. You have to tell me, because I can’t tell what’s in your head.”

“Abstractly, it doesn’t bother me. Practically speaking, though, it’s an STI risk I’m not willing to take.”

“Ok, that’s... another question cleared up.”

“Realistically, I don’t see how it matters.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“You have to choose her. Or another like her... eventually. Your choices are limited, and maintaining our unusual physicality is the least logical course to take when the end goal is a committed long term relationship.”

“I could say the same about you.”

Sherlock stared. “Hm...what?”

“If you wanted to settle down, you probably couldn’t keep me around like this.”

“How in god’s name do you think that will ever happen?”

“You never know. You might decide you like romance after all. You’re a natural at affection.” John gave him a half hearted smile and stroked the skin under his ear.

“I’m perfectly happy with how things are at present. I can’t imagine trusting another person like this. I never even imagined I’d ever have a friend like you. So I can safely say I won’t be making an online dating profile in this lifetime.”

“You say that now. But what if I’m still hanging around ten, fifteen years from now? Hm?”

“You won’t be.”

“Hypothetically.”

“Then I imagine I’ll still be dragging you along to crime scenes. You’ll be nagging me that I’m not getting any younger and I need to eat healthier and rest or I’ll injure my decrepit body.”

“Such a peacock. If you’ll be decrepit, what will that make me? Decomposing?”

“The ghost of cases past.”

John smiled a moment before sobering. “You’ll show me the door long before that.”

Sherlock frowned and tilted his head. “Tell you to leave?”

“Especially if I’m no use on cases anymore.”

His mouth opened in surprised. “That’s... an odd thing to say.”

“Why? You get bored easily.”

“I always assumed you would be the one to get tired of me. It’s very strange to hear the reverse. I’m the difficult one. And if there were no cases to keep your interest...”

“You think I’m just here for the cases?”

“You are noticeably less content when there is a lack of action in our lives.”

“Cases have nothing to do with you being my best friend, you idiot.”

“Regardless, I see no reason I’d want you gone. Our current state is my ideal. It’s you who are seeking something else.” His arms circled around John, as if to keep him there.

“I don’t want to go anywhere, Sherlock.” John pulled him down for a soft kiss. “I really don’t.”

“Then don’t. Unless you think you’ll regret not searching for a spouse.”

“I don’t think I can bring myself to cut this out of... us. Not right now. I never realized it until I was suddenly facing the choice.”

“I don’t think I could do it willingly either. But I will, if you ask me to. And when you are ready and you choose someone, we’ll still be friends. Don’t just... disappear. Alright? That would be a nine. On the scale.”

John pressed his face into Sherlock’s chest and tried to process everything they’d said to each other. There was a lot to unpack.

“I guess I should cancel my date with Ava. I shouldn’t lead her on.”

“What will you tell her? Your first date went perfectly.”

“I don’t know.” _Sorry, I love my friend more than I want a relationship with you... Love...?_ “I think I need to go take a nap. I feel drained.”

“Ok.” Sherlock kissed him again before he headed towards the stairs.

He had a lot more thinking to do.

 

***

 

Yes, he loved Sherlock. Of course, he did. It was no secret. Everyone knew that.

And there was attraction too. It wasn’t overwhelming passion, the stuff of Shakespeare, but there was no doubt Sherlock was talented and John was attracted.

And John was tremendously relieved to know that Sherlock was just as emotionally invested in their friendship. He called it his ideal even. What exactly did _that_ mean?

At least it gave a clearer picture of his options. And where did that leave him now?

Choosing a relationship with someone like Ava and in turn stripping his relationship with Sherlock felt even more repellent than before. But would he be happy if he never chose a partner? If he stayed living his life with Sherlock, would he long for romance? Would he be lonely?

Was he lonely now? He didn’t think so.

And he loved Sherlock more than the possibility of romance with Ava. Would he always choose Sherlock? Come to think of it... was there anyone he’d ever met who he’d choose over him? Actually, no.

But he’d always been searching for someone who would love him. And that wasn’t something Sherlock did. Not like that. So what exactly did Sherlock feel for him?

Perhaps they needed to talk again. But... John really did feel emotionally exhausted now. So he wrapped his blanket around him and tried to relax his spinning mind. It could all wait until tomorrow.

 

***

 

“You’re staring.”

“I’m not.”

“I have keen powers of observation. I know when you’re watching me.”

“I’m not.”

“Has it something to do with the woman you canceled a date with? Did she react worse than usual?”

“She was fine. Maybe disappointed. I couldn’t tell.”

“Are you having a delayed sexual identity crisis?”

“For the love of...I’m quite comfortable with your cock in my mouth. Do you think I’m in crisis?”

“No, but now I might be...” Sherlock mumbled, not quite low enough to escape John’s hearing.

John smirked. “Should add dirty talk to the list of things to try out on you.”

“You didn’t used to be this bold. We were both thoroughly English. Awkward and embarrassed.”

“I like you awkward and embarrassed. Makes me want to shag you even more.” Sherlock might have turned a shade pinker. He couldn’t be sure from across the room. John stood from his chair at the kitchen table and sat on the arm of Sherlock’s chair to check. Yes, he thought so. He kissed the side of Sherlock’s neck and nipped his ear. “See?”

Sherlock pulled him onto his lap. “You’re trying to distract me.”

“It’s the most pleasant way I’ve found to distract you, by far.” He smiled fondly as he brought their foreheads together.

“John, if there were something wrong, you’d tell me... wouldn’t you?”

He let out a breath. “There’s nothing wrong. I’m just thinking things over.”

“Is it about yesterday?”

“Yes.”

Sherlock waited. His fingers found an exposed patch of skin above John’s waist band and rubbed soothingly.

“Do you believe in love?” John asked abruptly.

“It doesn’t matter if I believe in something or not. A thing exists or doesn’t regardless of my belief in it. Love is a chemical process in the body. It does exist.”

“Sorry, not what I meant to ask. What I mean... You seem to reject sentiment. But here you are with your arms around me. And yesterday you basically told me you wanted us to stay together always. That seems like sentiment to me.”

“You’ve always treated me as a fully functional human being - mostly - despite other opinions to the contrary. Are you shocked that I am capable?”

“No... not at all. I’m just wondering... well, you suppress your emotions - not very well, but you try - and I thought you’d rather avoid the whole sentiment thing... with me. I don’t know what you want. I don’t know how you feel.”

“Do you think of our unorthodox physicality as sentimental?”

“Yes. The more I think about it, the more I see it that way. Do you?”

“I’m aware that it appears that way from an outside perspective. Were I to deduce information from our interactions as a third party, I would most likely come to that conclusion. That aside, there is more telling evidence to support it. I’ve allowed myself to become vulnerable. Several times now, criminals have used you to get to me. And they were correct that it is a weak point. Yet I don’t try to eliminate it. That is, I believe, a clear example of sentiment. I’m not suppressing it. However, I have been wary of showing it outwardly. As for what I want... I told you. I prefer things how they are.”

“Would you rather I didn’t love you?”

“I... don’t want you to stop.... I really don’t want that to ever stop.”

John combed his finger through Sherlock’s hair. “I don’t plan on stopping. Jesus, this is the oddest conversation I’ve ever had.” John kissed his friend, urgently trying to express his affection so Sherlock never felt unwanted. “Would you describe how you feel about me as love?”

“I’m experiencing some of the physiological symptoms, but I’m unable to definitively confirm it.”

“Ok. Can you describe it? How do you think of me?”

“You... are a valuable asset in my life and work.”

“Anything else?”

“Um. A disproportionate amount of thoughts belong to the John category. I’ve allocated a large portion of my ongoing thought processes to retaining your presence. I find myself dedicating time to activities that benefit you instead of me, even if they're dull. When you are in immediate danger, my mind automatically shifts focus to your safety - occasionally to the exclusion of all other functions. You, more than anyone, have the strongest impact on my state of mind, in a variety of ways.”

“What ways?”

“Your approval or disapproval affects me, whereas the opinions of most others are irrelevant. Your presence is both calming and stimulating. You improve my focus. I... find pleasure in your company. Don’t smirk. I wasn’t talking about sex. But that too.... How do you think of me?”

“I should hold my tongue or I’ll just feed your ego.”

“I got the impression that this was a moment to cast aside insecurities and be honest about our thoughts. Did I read it wrong?”

“No.” He kissed Sherlock again. “You know I think you’re brilliant. You saved me. You were a miracle. I was alone and lost and I felt dead. But you breathed life back into me. I owe you for that.”

“Is that why you put up with me?”

“Ha. I’m here because you’re the best friend I’ve ever had. There have been days that I questioned if you cared about me at all, but most days it feels like you do. It was so strange. From the beginning, you wanted me around even when you were cross with me. And I’m here because you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met. Other people seem boring compared to you. When I’m out with a friend or on a date, I think about what you might be doing, if you’re safe, if you’re bored, if you’ve eaten. And I want to protect you too. Losing you terrifies me. I hate when you go chasing after a criminal without me. You can be such a dick sometimes. You wind me up, but there’s no one I’d rather spend my time with.”

“You’re right, this is going straight to my ego.”

“See. Dick.”

“I never thought I’d have a companion like this. It’s very... I don’t know how to describe it. I believe I’m producing higher levels of oxytocin.”

“Is that a good thing? Do you like it?”

“It feels good. Like a very mild high.”

“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or worried you’re comparing me to drugs.”

Sherlock shrugged. “It’s all neurochemicals.”

“Very romantic.”

“Shall I be romantic for you?”

“Go on then.”

“I have always eschewed indulging in the destructive chemistry of sentiment. But with you, I seek to retain it.”

John was compelled to kiss him again. They sat like that, faces pressed together for a long while.


	6. Epilogue

John heard scraping sounds coming from the sitting room. He could only guess what Sherlock was up to now. He rolled his eyes at himself in the mirror. He was having a shave and only about half way done. They’d only just gotten showered and dressed and it was already late in the day. They’d had a late one the night before.

A loud thud reached his ears. “Jesus, try to keep our stuff intact, will you!” he shouted towards the open door, not expecting a reply and receiving none. Suddenly music roared throughout the flat before the volume was quickly turned down. Curious. Sherlock never listened to the radio. He rarely even used the stereo.

After finishing up, he wandered out to see what all the noise was about. All of the furniture had been pushed to the sides of the room and Sherlock was gliding around the open space, humming to himself. He was wearing John’s favorite purple shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. John liked to run his fingers along the skin there.

“Are you... are you dancing?” he asked, confused.

Sherlock whirled around. “Ah. John!” he acknowledged happily.

“What’s all this then?”

“Well... you see, I was in fact dancing.”

“Does dancing often come up in casework?”

“Not as of yet... but I live in hope.”

“How very James Bond.”

“Who?”

John eyed him. “I think you’re playing dumb, but never mind. So anyway, I didn’t know you could dance. You’ve never shown the slightest interest.”

“I suppose I still have a few secrets left.” Sherlock clasped his hands behind his back, showing just the slightest hint of nervous tension.

“Mr. Mysterious. I bet you can dance like a proper gentleman too. All waltzes and such.”

“Quite right.”

“And I’m just hearing about this now because...?”

“For a waltz, you must have a partner,” he replied quietly, eyes on the floor with a small shy smile.

 _Oh._ He wanted to dance with John. How long had he wanted to do that?

And apparently he’d wondered too long because his friend’s smile began to fade. “Ok, but why did you move all the furniture?”

“I thought it best to have some space.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t know the first thing about proper dancing.”

“Obviously. Hence the need for extra space while I teach you.”

“I hope your expectations aren’t too high with that.”

“You’ll do fine, John.” He reassured him warmly with a charming wink and held out his hand. “I promise nothing too complicated.”

John hesitated, not wanting to embarrass himself, but Sherlock looked so hopeful he couldn’t say no. “Fine, but it’s not my fault if your toes take all the repercussions.” He stepped forward and let Sherlock arrange his limbs where they were supposed to go.

He grasped one of John’s hands in his own and guided the other to rest on his back, under his shoulder blade. John tilted his head. “You’re having me lead?”

“That is the traditionally male role. Wouldn’t want you too far out of your comfort zone. And it hardly matters to me. I can do either.” He stepped forward into John’s space. Much closer than he expected. “Now, let’s start with the box step.”

Sherlock guided him through the steps and chuckled at John’s creative swearing when he made mistakes. He merely rumbled a quiet, “Again,” to prompt him to keep going, and “That’s it, just like that,” when he didn’t stumble. It brought to mind other physical activities they did together when he’d said the same phrases. He struggled to keep his mind on dancing and his body in check.

When John started to become a bit more coordinated, Sherlock turned the music on and a soft orchestral piece started to play. Actually, it sounded like a vaguely familiar pop song, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“And again. Remember to transfer your weight after the three.”

They continued swaying back and forth, John getting used to following along with the music.

“It’s starting to get dark. Maybe we should close the curtains. I don’t need the neighbors seeing this travesty. And I hope Mrs. Hudson doesn’t decide to come up right now. She’ll gush.”

“Hush, John. Concentrate. You’re doing fine. And let Hudders have her fun.”

A few songs later, a new tune caught John’s attention. “Is that... Oh, my god, is that Skyfall?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It is. This is from James Bond. I knew it. I knew you didn’t delete it.”

John felt Sherlock’s deep laugh reverberated in his chest, and he realized they were flush against one another. He didn’t remember when that had happened.

“This isn’t exactly proper form for a waltz, is it?”

“I think we can drop the formalities. I doubt we’ll be entering any competitions.”

“Oh?” John’s hand slid downward, low on the other man’s hip.

Sherlock reproachfully replaced his hand back to its original location. “It’s easier to lead with your hand higher up.”

“With our height difference, does it really matter?”

Sherlock nodded sternly, but every so often John let his hand wander down again, brushing the top of Sherlock’s arse.

“Naughty,” he purred in John’s ear. He had a sensitive bum, and they both very well knew it.

“Oh? Am I?” John ran his fingers down, teasing lower and lower, hinting at far more naughty things he could be doing with his fingers there.

He heard Sherlock take a shuddering breath. _Oh, interesting_. John leaned his body forward, deliberately making contact with Sherlock’s pelvis and felt the tell tale bulge against his lower abdomen. He pressed against it, getting a hiss out of his dance partner.

“Very.”

“I think I like dancing.” John turned his head to brush his lips against Sherlock’s nipple.

Sherlock’s attempt to reply was interrupted by the high pitch sound that came out of his mouth, but then he managed, “We’re not even doing a box step anymore. We’re just rocking from side to side.”

John continued to tease him at irregular intervals. He’d drag his finger tips from Sherlock’s wrist to his elbow one time, scratch his nails across a nipple the next. He’d just barely brush up against Sherlock’s erection every now and then, or trace the seam of his arse.

“Are you aroused?” John asked. “Because I sure as hell am.”

“Yes, fuck. This is one of my fantasies, actually,” he confessed shakily.

“Oh?” He rubbed against him again. “I wonder what it would feel like naked.”

“Mmm, god.”

“Do you think you can come like this? Dancing in the middle of the flat, in your pants like a teenager?”

“I- Maybe.”

“I think about you on the sofa, cock touching nothing but air, coming and coming.”

“Fuck, ughn.”

He slid his hand into Sherlock’s hair and brought him down for filthy kiss. “I want to see you come like that again. Take your clothes off. Come on.”

They both stripped quickly.

“John, I don’t know if I can. I-“

“Maybe with some other stimulation.”

He pushed Sherlock to the sofa and laid him down. His lips hovered over the man’s red flushed penis. He gave the head a single tantalizing lick before moving lower. He sucked a few bruises into Sherlock’s thighs before bringing his hands behind the man’s knees and lifting his legs up. He exposed Sherlock’s sensitive bum and bit down.

Sherlock yelped and John kissed the spot in apology. “J-John, what...”

“You’ve never had anyone’s mouth here yet...”

“There... You mean...”

“Do you think you’d like my tongue on you? You liked my fingers.”

Sherlock blushed hard. “I - That’s... um - oh!” John licked the underside of his testicles.

“Let me. If you want it, let me.”

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Do that. Yes.”

“I want to see you come. God, Sherlock, I’m so hard.” John licked him at his opening and reveled in the deep groan that fell from Sherlock’s lips. He licked and licked. He massaged his prostate and kept licking and kissing and didn’t stop until the other man was desperate and shaking.

“John! Oh, John, I’m coming, I’m coming. Ungh!”

John lift his head in time to see Sherlock sob as his cock spurted helplessly, untouched, over and over. God, it was... He couldn’t wait, he needed to come too. John moved up and frantically stroked himself above Sherlock’s stomach, wanting to add to the mess already there.

“Sherlock, watch.” He’d never had the courage to masturbate in front of anyone, but he knew Sherlock would want to see.

The dazed man opened his eyes. “Oh.”

“Fuck, that looked so good, mmm, yes. I’m gonna - yessss!” And John emptied himself, fucking his own fist, keening.

They looked at each other, breathing heavily. John suddenly snorted. “Heh. Haha. Hehehe.”

“What?”

“If this keeps happening, I’ll never get any better at dancing.”

Sherlock barked out a laugh as well. “It may take years. But at least I’ll have a partner.”

 

***

 

Days turned into weeks which turned into months. Months filled with affection and bickering and sex and sharing a bed more often than not. And John wasn’t lonely. How could he be? Sherlock was always there, being needy, demanding his attention, making him feel wanted.

He’d always imagined what his future would be like. The narrative went like this: be a doctor, meet a woman, date her, fall in love, get married, maybe have a child or two, retire from medicine, move to the country, die of old age. It had never occurred to him to do anything else. Now he had this other option. And it was jarring to suddenly find himself in a different story. But it was ok. It took awhile for it to sink in, but this wasn’t a bad thing. He loved his life with Sherlock and he found comfort in the prospect of never having to relinquish it if he didn’t want to. He only felt relief.

Sherlock occasionally made mention of the time when John would leave. Find someone to fall in love with. And each time, it made John’s mood plummet. He didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to hear about it. Never wanted to ever mention it. He would be cranky for the rest of the day. Sherlock didn’t understand why he reacted so irritably. It made perfect sense to John, yet when he tried to explain it, he couldn’t put it into words. But finally, because John is very slow sometimes, he realized it was fear that was causing his distress. He was afraid to lose Sherlock’s affection. And yes, his love.

Because he realized that no one he’d ever been with made him feel as cared for as Sherlock Holmes. God, imagine that. A man he’d thought would never let himself be close to anyone, was the person who made him feel the most loved.

 

***                                                                                                                                                                               

 

John was having yet another birthday. ‘Odd how it happens every year, genius.’ Sherlock actually agreed to attend this time. There may have been sexual bribery involved.

A few mates from his army days were going to be in town this year, so John decided to invite them along with all his friends round the pub. He didn’t fancy the idea of inviting them to their flat. Sherlock was territorial and became agitated by too much socializing in his space. No doubt including strangers in the mix would make it worse. So a pub it was.

An hour in, John was congratulating himself at what a smashing success it was turning out to be. Though he acted disgruntled as the main form of entertainment seemed to be his fellow soldiers telling all the most embarrassing stories about him. Sherlock was soaking up the information with glee in his eyes. John got them back with his own tales - he gave as good as he got.

“And 3C had barely tucked his cock away when me and the commander saw what was going on. He’s got this innocent look on his face, like he weren’t shagging in darkened back alley. He just acts casual, right, but she’s still bent over the sacks with her skirt up, flashing her fanny.”

The group roared their laughter. Sherlock looked over at John. “Seems you’re quite the Lothario.”

“You know the unit still talks about you,” said Murray. “Biggest mystery of all time how Watson managed to snatch up a lady wherever we went. Short ugly bugger like him.”

“You should look in the mirror, mate,” John tossed back. “My advice is to grow a personality because your face is one hell of a handicap.”

Sherlock frowned in confusion. “John, both your faces exhibit few features considered irregular or undesirable by the current western social construct of beauty.”

“You saying you think I’m pretty?”

“I’ll say you’ve been drinking.”

“Don’t worry, blokes are obligated to tell each other they’re ugly.”

“I see. So as not to appear homosexual.”

Lestrade nearly spit his beer out at that comment and started coughing. He got a few thumps on the back as he gave John a significant look. Molly, who was sitting shyly next to him, looked nervously back and forth between Greg, John, and Sherlock.

Everyone else laughed at Lestrade’s mishap and took Sherlock’s social awkwardness in stride.

“It’s true about Watson, though. He never went long without finding some female company. Heard he even managed to find a willing lady from time to time after he was sent to Afghanistan,” Hillock said, circling back to the topic of John’s exploits. “Charms them every time. So, who are you seeing now, eh? You keeping her far away from us so she never knows what a slag you are?”

John hesitated. His first thought was to say he wasn’t with anyone right now, but that was... not true. Not true at all. He was with Sherlock. In every way.

And it was probably the alcohol making him impulsive, and he would apologize to Sherlock later because they’d never discussed being open about what they were to each other, but... he didn’t want to keep it to themselves anymore. Sherlock meant the world to him and he should be able to say it.

“It’s too late for that. He knows now, thanks to you lot.”

John’s hadn’t really thought about the words before he said them. He surveyed the reactions. A few looked confused. Molly looked like she hadn’t been expecting the revelation to happen right then, but didn’t seem exactly surprised by it. Greg looked smugly satisfied, mouthing ‘finally’. Mike had a growing look of suspicion blooming on his face. Mrs. Hudson looked proud as you please. Finally he glanced at Sherlock who had blanked his expression, but he could read him well enough to see the shock and uncertainty he was feeling. But John didn’t see fear or embarrassment or anger. Relieved, he brought his hand rest against the nape of Sherlock’s neck, idly playing with the curls there.

Immediately the looks of confusion switched to comprehension. Hillock let out a shocked whistle. Which was shortly followed by a shouted, “I bloody knew it!” from Murray.

“Watson? You and posh boy here...?” asked Mangal.

“Yeah, actually.”

“Well, how the buggering hell did that happen?” Hillock squawked.

And then Sherlock looked panicked, silently pleading for John to not reveal how they started down the path they were on. The blush was rising in his cheeks.

“Well... I was a sad pathetic veteran trying to survive in London, and then I ran into Mike who introduced me to a mad genius with little hope of finding a flatmate. And he was the most brilliant man I’d ever met.”

“Christ, took you long enough, though,” Lestrade finally burst out. He was too far into his pints to be discreet. Molly shushed him, but he ignored her, “Everyone could tell right from the start, but John kept on with girlfriend after girlfriend.”

“Molly, would you please relocate Lestrade’s drink. He appears to be done for the night,” Sherlock intoned.

“Oh, um, alright,” she mumbled as he moved his pint out of reach.

“Regardless...” John stepped in, “I’m happy with how things are now.” He squared off towards his army mates.

Murray spoke, “Every time I read your blog, it always sounded like you had a bit of a crush on him. How’d you talk him round to your side, Sherlock?”

“Interesting. You naturally assume I am the homosexual one who has finally ensnared his straight flatmate. In fact, John is the first man I’ve ever slept with.” Naturally, Sherlock didn’t mention that he hadn’t slept with any women either.

“Oh, yeah,” John chimed in. “I started it, didn’t I?”

“Indeed. True to form... 3C.”

The other soldiers burst into laughter.

“The legend continues!” Mangal called out. “He’s branched out to seducing first timer posh boys.”

“Why does he keep calling me that, John?”

“Let’s just say that I should have been able to deduce from your bespoke suits and your public school air that you don’t actually need to share the flat to afford Mrs. Hudson’s rent.”

Hillock piped up, “Now’s our chance, lads. We can finally ask one what’s so special about Watson. So, uh, Sherlock, tell us how he got ya.”

“Hm. I’ve seen him charm women and he did no such thing with me. He merely continued to be the man I saw the minute I met him. Kind, brave, and craving adventure.”

“God, that’s so bloody sweet, I’m going to be sick,” Hillock mimed retching. “But seriously, what... you know, sealed the deal?”

Sherlock thought about how to answer the question for a minute before speaking. “I’d never had a best friend before. And then... well, he’s a doctor. Quite good with his hands.”

That triggered another round of laughter.

John surveyed the group with drunken sentimentality. He’d managed to find some pretty decent friends.

 

***

 

“John.”

“Yeah?”

“About yesterday...”

“Look, I know I should never have done that. We never talked about letting people know and I really appreciate you being a good sport about it-“

“John, stop. Who knows how long that apology would have gone on. As I was saying, yesterday you gave everyone the impression we are a romantic couple. Why did you do that?”

“Aren’t we?”

“It’s so tedious to keep track of the labels and social standards. I wouldn’t know.”

“Feels like it to me.”

“As always, I trust your judgement in these matters.”

“You wouldn’t mind people thinking you’re my boyfriend?”

“If you feel it’s an appropriate title.”

“Yeah, I do. So no more talking about me finding someone else and leaving you. I’m not looking for anyone else.”

“You still may find someone without actively looking.”

“And if he or she liked you and liked us being together, then I might be up for it. If you were too.”

“Are you promising me forever, John? Have we stumbled into one of your ridiculous movies?”

“I’m not promising anything. I’m just telling you how I feel. Either one of us could change in time. It happens and it could be complete shit if it does. That’s life. No guarantees. Things are good now. Great, actually. Assuming that an unhappy ending is inevitable just ruins what we have now.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. All of it in mind.”

“Good.”

“So....”

“So...?”

“So, you plan for us to continue living together for the foreseeable future....”

“Yeah, and?”

“We should get a dog.”

“What?! Why?”

“Dogs are an extremely fascinating and useful species. They have a variety of valuable benefits. They are very intelligent, more than some humans - Anderson. They can aid in collecting forensic information -“

“Sherlock.”

“-and they can track criminals. They can be trained to protect their owners and territory.”

“Sherlock.”

“They are known to lower people’s blood pressure with their mere presence. People who own pets live longer -“

“Jesus, take a breath.”

“It wouldn’t have been feasible before because you’d likely get sentimentally attached and want to take the dog with you when you left, but in your own words you said you won’t be leaving, so it’s only logical that now is the appropriate time to adopt a dog.”

“Sherlock, you just like dogs, don’t you?”

“As I said, they are a fascinating -“

“Nope. You just want a dog.”

“...”

“And you know we can’t possibly keep one at our flat.”

“There are breeds that do well in flats.”

“And who’s going to take care of it, hm? You’d let the thing starve and I’ll end up with all the responsibility-“

“I would never-“

“A pet needs to be given food and water, a place to sleep. You have to bathe it and clean up after it. I’d be the one outside at midnight taking it for a walk so it can shit on the pavement for me to clean it up.”

“I could train it to use a litter box.”

“... Granted, but then I’d be the one cleaning the litter box. Not to mention doing the shopping for it and taking it the veterinarian.”

“John, I would _never_ neglect a dog that is depending on me for its well being. I may not be a kind person, but I’m not so heartless that I’d let an animal suffer.”

John sighed. “And what happens when you get a case, hm? Sometimes you go haring off so quickly that you don’t even notice you’ve forgotten me at home. You’re going to remember the dog?”

“I hardly think it will perish from being unsupervised for a few hours.”

“Two weeks ago we were in Swansea. For three days. And you didn’t remember to tell me we were going until five minutes before we had to leave.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. We can leave enough food and water for three days. I won’t forget about the dog. And we have plenty of friends who could check in on it for us. And if all else fails, there’s bound to be a kennel in London somewhere.”

“You would actually look after it? Help train it so it doesn’t tear up the flat? Buy its food?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, John. You’ll already be doing the shopping, you can get its food. It’s illogical to have me go as well. A waste of time.”

“Sherlock,” John warned.

“However, I would be an excellent care provider and trainer.”

“AND you’ll clean up after it.” John gave him a hard stare.

“Yes, that too.”

John let out a slow breath. “This is a terrible idea.”

“So was sharing a flat with a charming madman you’d just met.”

John grinned.

“Let’s get a dog together,” Sherlock implored.

“Fine. You madman.”

 

Fin

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments on the fanfic. This is one of the few stories I've ever finished. Endings are not my thing. So... what kind of dog do you think they got?
> 
> Thank you IVLeafTea for fixing all my typos. And also thanks for helping me with an end scene. And for god's sake, finish your Undertale WIP.


End file.
